Little Black Dress
by Lady Rhapsody
Summary: (Formerly known as beautiful::irony.) Bulma is a troubled girl swept up in the intrigues of drugs and parties. She is devastated when Yamcha dumps her unexpectedly and finds comfort in her bad habits. Meanwhile, Vejita gets interested... B/V
1. Chapter One

A/N:) Yes, its me---beautiful::irony. This will be my pen name now. Explanations will only come if requested. Its a private thing. I'm very sorry, but I am discontinuing all of my previous fics, including "Unpretty". I couldn't be more disappointed about it, and I'm sure some of you will hate me for it and never read any of my stuff again, but plz at least hear me out. I've been through what nobody should have to go through (some horrible shit, DO NOT bother me about it unless you wanna be flamed right back), and a period of depression followed, so nobody say a word about how sorry they are that I'm deleting those stories. Besides, the ones I am planning on writing now will be much better, guaranteed. I'm working on getting some of my work (outside of ff.net) published, so updates might be few and far between at times, but most of you have come to expect that of me...:-). Thank you all for your incredible patience. And don't worry, I don't bite hard. Feel free to review as usual w/o worrying about me flying off the handle. I'm not a head case---at least not much of one.  
  
Anyway, the idea for this fic is inspired by events in my own life. (No, I didn't get depressed about my love life...its just other things that will be in the story..) I tried to make all the characters slightly more, well, human. I think that the way that I previously wrote Vejita, and that most other ppl write about Vejita, makes him seem so impossible to get close to, and I don't think that anybody could really survive that way, not even the 'Prince of all Saiyans'. And I also took this into consideration when writing about Bulma's character. (Those of you, such as my dear cousin, will notice that I've sort of based her on myself!) I've read back on all my stories, and I'm taking a different approach on her this time around. Not dramatically different, but changed still. I guess you could say that is a sort of experiment, to see if I really want to get back into this. But never fear, I promise I'll at least finish this one! On with the fic! ;-)  
  
  
  
  
...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
"Come back down here, you asshole!" Bulma shrieked, throwing her spike heels down onto the marble floor. "I'll show you who's the blind one! You're a bastard, you hear? A lying, cheating bastard!"  
  
Yamcha's grizzled face appeared from atop the staircase. "I've told you a million times, Bulma--our lifestyles are different. This," he pointed to himself, then to her. "would never work."  
  
"We could make it work," she offered quietly, dropping her clenched fists to her sides. "We always did before."  
  
"I can't take it any more, Bulma!" Yamcha shouted, stepping into clear view now that Bulma's shoes weren't on hand. "I can't keep up with you anymore. Its like all you care about is partying and...whatever it is you're on these days! I'm gonna be a ball player, baby, and I can't be around that kind of stuff. You know that."  
  
"I told you, Yamcha--I'm quitting. I'm settling down, I swear I am," Bulma began desperately, shaking her crimped hair out of her face. "If its a serious girl you want, I can do that! You have to believe me!"  
  
The forlorn look on Yamcha's face told the whole story. It was over. He tried to reply, but Bulma cut him off with a wave of her hand. She bent down to pick up her shoes and flashed him one last smile, a fake, tight smile that would have to last them both a lifetime.  
  
"Thanks for the best years of my life," she mumbled, stumbling over the front door. "You're gonna be a star. You know that, right?" She slammed the door behind her, shutting Yamcha out of her life forever.  
  
  
  
  
Yamcha watched the door of his apartment close behind her. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of the thunderstorm getting worse. He would have offered Bulma a ride back to Capsule Corps., but he knew that she would refuse. She wasn't the kind of girl who would except a ride home from the man who had just dumped her after four years. The thought that he would never go out with her again was a sad one. He had practically watched her grow up--or try to, anyway. It was anyone's guess what had happened to the sweet, innocent chatterbox that they had all knew and loved.  
  
It was in twelfth grade that Bulma had begun to change. Nobody could define what it was that had shook her so much, but had come home from her prom that night and nothing was the same since. He could see her in his mind's eye now, her makeup running down her face, mixing in with makeup. The pretty sash that she had worked to earn for her entire high school career hung lopsided over her princess dress, the words 'Prom Queen' all twisted together like she had taken it off and then hastily thrown it back on, as if she didn't care, which Yamcha knew she did.  
  
He had been too head-over-heels in love to believe it then, but he realized what it must have been now--rape. It was the only logical thing. If there was one thing that Bulma hated, it was being violated. Yamcha could easily see how that would have changed her. But Bulma was a strong girl, and for her to still not recover was unusual. It must have been bad, really bad. He shook the disturbing mental images out of his head and gripped the stairwell tighter.  
  
Yet no matter how bad it might have been, he told himself, it wasn't his problem anymore.   
  
  
  
  
Bulma wrapped her arms around herself, protecting herself from the pouring rain. She was grateful for the rain; it covered the trails of tears that now ran steadily down her face. She hated crying. Probably because she had done so much of it in the past couple of years. She was twenty-two years old, for Kami's sake, couldn't she get a hold of herself already?  
  
She looked back one last time at Yamcha's apartment complex. The lights in his apartment had been shut off, as if they were meant to run her off or something. She stopped for a moment, looked down at her shoes, and made a decision. Suddenly she ran back towards the complex, her bare feet slapping against the wet pavement. She remembered all of the baseball tips Yamcha had forced upon her in eleventh grade, when she had thought that it would be cute for her to try out for the girl's baseball team. Of course, she had only wanted to join so that she could wear the adorable outfits, but she had never told him that. Anyhow, she was here now, and she meant to put the tips to good use.   
  
She wound up, took a step forward, and hurled her shoes, one at a time, through his picture windows.  
  
  
  
  
"Bulma, your behavior is unexcusable," Mrs. Briefs scolded. "I cannot believe you would do such a thing! You're lucky that your father knows the sheriff, or else you could be in some real trouble right now."  
  
Bulma kept her gaze firmly fixed on her mother's tapping pink flats. She had expected to be punished in some way, but she wished that her mother would wait until Vejita was out of the house. She was sure that she would hear about this later. But not now. Vejita sat quietly at the kitchen counter, watching her with those unreadable black eyes. She hated how she could never tell what he was thinking.  
  
"Your mother is right, honey," Dr. Briefs began. "But it'll take us a little bit to think of a proper punishment. For now, try to get some sleep. You look like you need it."  
  
Bulma touched a finger to the dark circles under her eyes and lifted her sapphire gaze to her mother. "I'm twenty-two years old, Mom, you can't boss me around anymore."  
  
Her father answered for her mother. "Twenty-two or not, Bulma, you obviously still need guidance."  
  
Bulma watched as her parents silently left the kitchen, shaking their heads in disapproval at their failure of a daughter. With them safely out of the way, she looked up and was surprised when she found herself staring right back into Vejita's eyes.  
  
"Well, aren't you going to berate me now?" she demanded, tugging at the bottom of her little black dress. "This would be your cue."  
  
Vejita raised an eyebrow and regarded her seriously. "It would be difficult to do so, especially since you are berating yourself for it now." He never broke their eye contact as he stood up and exited from the room.  
  
Alone now in their overly-elaborated kitchen, Bulma dropped her head into her hands and let out a deep, discontented sigh. She reached into her tiny purse for a mirror to see what her parents, and Vejita, must be seeing. As she was pulling it out, a small bag of loose white powder, like glimmering crystals of Christmas snow, fell into her open hand. She closed her delicate fingers around it, gripping it like a lifeline, craving its comfort. She remembered her many promises to Yamcha about dropping her habit, but quickly pushed them aside. After all, a girl needed a break every once in a while, didn't she?  
  
She mechanically lined the powder out into little rows and let her mind and body unconsciously do the rest. She felt the familiar head rush, the hyperawareness of colors, sweep over her and smiled. Nothing could compare to what she was feeling now--nothing. No boy had ever made her feel this way; what had she been thinking, trying to use them to ease her pain? She didn't need anybody.  
  
"I don't need anybody," she whispered huskily. "Nobody, you hear me Yamcha? I have this, and I have myself. That's all I need."  
  
She swept the remainder of the powder into the bag, and shoved the bag back into her purse. Suddenly, with the high leaving her rapidly, she felt dead tired, as if she hadn't slept in days, and thirsty, so thirsty. She stood and reached weakly for the faucet, but her legs wouldn't listen and wobbled from beneath her. Just as she was about to collapse, Vejita stepped out from the shadows and steadied her on her feet. He watched as her beautiful blue eyes rolled back into her head, then back forward again, as if she was on the verge of consciousness. He had seen such behavior before, back on his home planet. The soldiers of Vejitasei had often resorted to drugs to ease the pain of their everyday life. Hell, he had even tried it once. He had hated himself for it immediately after. Such things were a sign of weakness.  
  
He secretly knew that Bulma wasn't weak, but he would have never told her. He had been watching her with special interest since he had come to stay with her family, and it hadn't taken long for him to get a sense of what was going on. It was only now that he could be sure, having seen it for himself. He shook his head, muttering foul curses, and slapped the girl awake.  
  
She blinked up at him, her face melting into an expression of disbelief, and then settled back into her deep, drug-induced sleep. Though he could have carried her all the way up to her room, he decided against the bold move and instead unceramoniously layed her down on a chair in the common room. He allowed himself one more look, and then stormed up the stairs, angry at himself for even bothering. 


	2. Chapter Two

(A/N): This is to all you wonderful reviewers---don't be scared to drop a bit of constructive critcism here and there. I'm a big girl, I can take it. Oh yes and please don't badger me about my other fics. They're deleted, done. There's nothing you or I can do about it now, so forget about it. As always, please be courteous and review. Btw---Stef-Chan...I will love you forever! Thank you for writing the best review I've ever received! From what I've interpreted, it sounds like you might have gone through a little bit of ff.net trouble also. While I loved your other stories, I can completely understand why you deleted them. Thanks for brightening my day!! Its nice to know that somebody appreciates how I'm trying to portray things...I hope that this fic does end up sounding more like the real world and some kind of fairy tale! Anyway, thanks a bunch! 3  
  
  
  
  
  
...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
Bulma woke to the comforting sounds and smells of her mother cooking breakfast, which was odd, considering the fact that her room was upstairs and across the building from the kitchen. She sat up slowly, rubbing her sore temples, and looked around her, blinking the sleep out of her blue eyes.   
  
She was on the couch in the common room, which was also odd. The last thing she remembered about the previous night was getting a quick high before she went up to bed and...well, that was it. She massaged her throbbing temples, figuring that she had passed out at the kitchen table. And, even worse, Vejita must have been the one to move her, considering her neither mother nor her father was strong enough to move her. She supposed that her mother had made him. It wasn't natural for Vejita to help others. Running a hand through her messy hair, she quietly slunk upstairs to take a shower.  
  
The girl was so busy scrubbing herself dry after her long, hot shower that she didn't hear her bedroom door creak open, or someone sit down on her queen-sized bed. She hastily wrapped a towel around herself, squeezed the extra moisture from her long hair, and stepped out of her bathroom. She shrieked when she caught sight of Vejita, impatiently waiting for her. Ever since she had begun her partying and such, she had made it a point never to appear in front of anyone without makeup, not wanting to run the risk of someone seeing the horrible dark circles beneath her eyes. It seemed that Vejita would be the first one to have the pleasure of seeing her in raw form. Extremely raw form, since all she wore was the towel.  
  
"What do you want?" she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't hear you knock."  
  
"No, you didn't. Your mother wanted you to know that the food is ready. Not that you eat much, but I guess she hasn't noticed that yet." Vejita stood, and then looked back as he exited the room. "By the way, your new look is...stunning. The dark circles really compliment your skin tone."  
  
Bulma restrained herself from attacking him as he disappeared down the hall. Honestly, she couldn't believe she had invited that man into her house. How ignorant she had been! How different she had been... She brushed the regretful thought aside and set about making herself presentable again. She was not in the mood to mull over the attitude of His Highness at the moment.  
  
  
  
  
Mrs. Briefs looked up when Vejita re-entered the kitchen, scowling. "I suppose it was you who transported Bulma into the common room last night," she stated flatly, watching him out of the corners of her eyes. "Thank you."  
  
"Hn," Vejita replied, taking his usual place at the table. He silently hated himself for being harsh on Bulma earlier, though he was a loss to explain why. "Is it almost done?"  
  
The woman ignored his comment. "Don't tell her that you did--she would not appreciate your knowing her weaknesses." She paused for a moment, stopping her cooking to gaze thoughtfully into space. "She has ever so many these days, doesn't she?"  
  
Vejita shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. "She's a different person than I first met on Namek, yes. She grew up or whatever. Its not like she wasn't weak already."  
  
"She didn't grow up," Mrs. Briefs said, shaking her head and going back to her cooking. "She changed. I couldn't say what it was that changed her, though. I can only pinpoint the time. You probably remember."  
  
At this Vejita didn't reply. He remembered it, all right, and he could guess the reason also. It had been the night of her prom, the silly event that she had herself all worked up for. She had spent the entire day getting herself ridiculously made up when she looked so much better without all of that face paint anyway, and then she had insisted upon getting hundreds of pictures taken of her and Yamcha in their pointless costumes, so that they could 'look back on this day' years later. Anyhow, Yamcha had ended up faking sick for whatever reason, probably so he could go and play baseball or whatever, so Bulma had to, of course, make a fuss about that, giving them all a migraine. She could only be comforted by Yamcha's reassurances that yes, she would be appointed Prom Queen, whatever that meant. She had come home a mess, sobbing about something that she had refused to explain. Vejita knew what it must have been, however. Judging from the mixed scents of fear and an adolescent man Vejita didn't recognize, it was obvious that she had been attacked. He had spent the entire night trying to block out the sounds of soft whimpers from Bulma's room and the images that had plagued his dreams. Yes, he remembered.  
  
"Yeah," he said, eyeing the food. "Is the shit done or what?!"  
  
Mrs. Briefs nodded. "Have at it, dear. Meanwhile, I'm off to the store. Is there anything you need?"  
  
Bulma trotted into the kitchen. "Yeah, I'd say there's something he needs--manners. Didn't your mother teach you to knock before you enter a room?"  
  
Mrs. Briefs' eyes danced as she left the room, leaving Bulma and Vejita to have at it, as usual.  
  
"No. She taught me the proper way to gut a live child though, just in case the opprotunity arises." Vejita smirked at her disgusted reaction, though his honest intention had been to get her to laugh. Apparently, their ideas of humor differed.  
  
"Cute. Real cute," she muttered, wrinkling her perfectly powdered nose. Vejita watched her as she picked out tiny portions of her mother's breakfast. She had covered up the dark rings under her eyes and crimped her long, wavy hair even though she had decided pulled it up into a messy high ponytail. She obviously had plans to stay home, because she wore a pair of short blue boxers and a white beater that was, Vejita couldn't help but notice, more than a little transparent. He also noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra--it wasn't like she desperately needed one anyway. He mentally steered himself away from those kinds of thoughts, especially about this particular girl, and recovered with a sarcastic remark.  
  
"I've always thought so," Vejita replied. "How do you survive on such meager rations?"  
  
"Quite well, thank you." She looked down at her slim frame and small breasts and smiled to herself. Then, as if she was remembering that she was supposed to be the troubled one, she frowned and slammed her plate onto the counter, across from Vejita. "Aren't you supposed to be training right now?"  
  
"I'm not 'supposed' to be doing anything, woman," was his grumpy reply. His reason for not training was that he knew he was going to have a hard time concentrating after last night. He always sorted things out in his mind when exercising, and that was something that he did not wish to analyze. So he stuck with his bland comment and continued eating his breakfast.  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow at his unpredictable behavior, shook her head, and began eating.  
  
  
  
  
Hours later, Mrs. Briefs returned home, her arms full of groceries. Bulma was sprawled across the couch, intent upon watching a movie, Dr. Briefs was most likely busy in the lab, and Vejita was in the kitchen, fixing himself lunch earlier than usual. The woman noticed that he seemed stressed about something, so she refrained from asking him about his early lunch.  
  
"No training today, hun?"   
  
Vejita frowned at 'hun' and waited before replying. "No." He left it at that and dug through the bags of food, pulling out various things and adding them to the growing pile on his plate. He furrowed his eyebrows at the many bottles of wine he found.  
  
Mrs. Briefs smiled. "That's just as well--it'll give you more than enough time to get ready for the party!"  
  
Bulma appeared in the doorway. "Party? That's something I never thought I'd hear you say."  
  
"I met Chichi at the store," Mrs. Briefs continued. "From the sound of it, your little group hasn't been all together in a long time, not since shortly after Vejita arrived here. I thought tonight would be a good night to have a little party at our house. That's what I bought all the wine for, Vejita. Its going to be a bit formal, so plan on dressing up!"  
  
"Oh, great," Vejita groaned. "All of the people I hate most, in one house. Is Kakkarott coming?"  
  
Mrs. Briefs looked confused. "Who?"  
  
"Chichi's idiot husband!"  
  
"Oh, of course he is!" She clasped her hands together in delight. "They'll all be delighted to see how much you've calmed down since you've gotten here, Vejita. And they're bringing Gohan, their lovely little child. I'll bet he's grown so much!"  
  
"Mom, its hardly been seven months," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. "And Vejita, calmed down? Right."  
  
"You can try to downplay it all you want," Mrs. Briefs mused. "But you can't possibly ruin it! It will be a great time, honey. You should go and find something to wear pretty soon, our guests will be arriving in about three hours." Her mother, ever foolhardy, decided to add onto her comment. "I think that he has calmed down. I remember how dreadfully set on killing he was when he got here. He's showed marvelous improvement, haven't you dear?"  
  
Vejita snorted and left the room, muttering to himself about foolish human assumptions and the disadvantages of self-control. Bulma waited until he was safely out of Saiyan earshot and raised an eyebrow at her mother.  
  
"He's a lot worse than he's been leading us to think," she said. "Believe me."  
  
Mrs. Briefs waved off the comment, smiling obliviously. "Do you think that they would prefer their meat barbequed or roasted? I know that Vejita has an obsession with barbeque, but you just never know about Goku..." She trailed off uncertainly.  
  
"Whatever." Bulma sighed and exited the room, wondering exactly how she was going to survive seeing Yamcha again, so soon after their breakup.  
  
  
  
  
The first people to arrive were, surprisingly, Krillen and Master Roshi. Krillen wore a ridiculous white suit that must have been three sizes too large, and Master Roshi wore what he usually preferred--a brightly colored beach shirt and khaki shorts. And, of course, his trusty flip-flops. Mrs. Briefs faltered at his casual wear for a moment, then beamed decidedly and let them in, showering them with praise.  
  
"Bulma! Vejita! Guests have arrived!" she called up the stairway. "Krillen and Master Roshi are here!"  
  
Upstairs in her room, Bulma was desperately procrastinating, tugging at the edges of her strappy black dress. She looked stunning, of course. It was her firm belief that nothing flattered quite like a little black dress. She had many to choose from, but this was the one that she truly loved. Its straps were impossibly tiny, and the back scooped down to right above her small bottom. The deep waterfall neckline was her favorite part; it created the illusion that she had breasts. She had twisted her hair half up into the intricate, ropy pattern that had swiftly become her favorite. She wore diamonds in her ears and around her neck, and even sewn into the straps of her stilettos. She flashed herself an uncertain, shaky smile and followed her mother's voice down the stairs.  
  
She nearly collided with Vejita at the top of the curving staircase. He reached out a hand to steady her, taking the opprotunity to give her a quick once-over. From his appreciative look, Bulma knew that she had been right to wear this dress. She had to force herself not to reveal the same expression as she looked at what Vejita was wearing.   
  
The deliciously tight tank top left nothing to the imagination, illustrating his rock-hard muscles perfectly. The loose dress pants definitely didn't hurt either. Bulma couldn't remember when he'd looked better. She would never have admitted this to the arrogant prince, though. Instead she simply raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I didn't know you even owned anything besides armor and training outfits," she remarked coolly, eyeing his outfit. "You look uncomfortable." But of course he truly didn't. He was a prince, Bulma remembered, dressing up must be second nature to him.   
  
"And I thought that everything you owned showed a little more skin," he replied. "I'm surprised you're not pulling out all the stops for that fool you were associated with."  
  
Bulma's perfectly lined eyes narrowed. "I'm not trying to impress anybody." But it was obvious to Vejita that she was lying. He couldn't say that he understood how she felt, but he could attempt it. He grimaced, hating what he was about to do but not able to stop himself.  
  
"Perhaps it would ease your pain to avoid the bastard tonight," he suggested stiffly. "Or I could just take him off your hands permanently...it would be my pleasure." He smirked at that wonderful prospect.  
  
Bulma stopped at the top of the stairs, staring at him incredulously. "Are you trying to...comfort me?" Her eyes softened as she gazed at him hopefully. Vejita hated how it made her look so much younger and more innocent, like she had never experienced pain before, or like she had experienced far too much. He suspected that was the case. He hated how it made him feel like doing something to help her, or at least to stop whatever was making her feel that way.  
  
"Where did you get that foolish idea?" he snorted. "I'm just looking for an excuse to beat up the asshole."  
  
The hopeful look melted away. Bulma turned away, trying to hide her disappointment as she descended the stairs. "It was just a thought."  
  
Vejita cursed himself as he followed, forcing himself to look away from her. Just as they reached the main floor, the door burst open and Kakkarott and his idiot wife hurried in, unwrapping their scarves and depositing Gohan onto the ground. The child stared, wide-eyed, at Vejita and hid behind his father.  
  
"Daddy, that bad man is with Aunt Bulma!" he exclaimed, pointing.  
  
Goku lifted his son into his arms, ignoring Vejita's quiet growl and Bulma's slightly amused expression. "Gohan, Vejita is our friend now, okay?"  
  
Gohan eyed Vejita skeptically and nodded, but Bulma didn't think he looked too sure. She shrugged, knowing that most grown-up people didn't believe it either.   
  
"Hello, Goku," she offered quietly. "Chichi."  
  
Goku's wife nodded and scurried over to Krillen, scolding him for 'staring at her precious baby Gohan'. Goku watched Bulma out of the corners of his eyes, surprised to find her and Vejita together. He had always assumed that Vejita was never around the family, as most of the others had. Only Yamcha knew how Vejita had gotten involved in the family, but it wasn't something he liked to talk about, for obvious reasons.  
  
"Hey, Bulma! What's up Vejita? Didn't think we'd be able to drag you away from your training!" he said.   
  
"Fuck off," Vejita muttered, shoving past him to the buffet of food.  
  
Goku watched him go, smiling obliviously. "What about ducks?" He turned to Bulma, whose eyes were fixed on Vejita's retreating back, amazement gracing her fair-skinned face. Something registered this into Goku's mind, though he didn't try to decipher it now. He instead slid an arm around Bulma's bare shoulders. "Yamcha told me that you guys broke up. How are you doing?"  
  
"I'm fine," Bulma snapped. "We had our differences. He wasn't a party person, I was. Its as simple as that." She shrugged his arm off, uncomfortable with the body contact.  
  
"Will he be here tonight?" Goku asked gently.  
  
"Probably," the girl answered, crossing her arms. "What's with the twenty questions, Goku?"  
  
Goku was cut off by more of Mrs. Briefs' exclaimed welcome's. Bulma turned to see who it was just as Yamcha and Tien walked through the door. Bulma noticed that Yamcha's smile was natural and relaxed, much unlike what she would have expected. He waved to her casually, as if he had already gotten over and forgotton her. His nonchalance cut her to the quick. She blushed, her face fell, and her fingers clenched into fists as she turned and stormed out of the room.  
  
Tien watched her go and then turned to Yamcha and Goku, who both looked equally sympathetic. "I wish I had that effect on women!"  
  
  
  
  
Bulma flung the patio doors open, breathing in the crisp autumn air gratefully. She slid the glass doors carefully, silently back into place. The last thing she wanted was for Goku or, Kami forbid, Yamcha, to follow her outside. All she wanted was to be alone.  
  
She sniffled and wiped away a stray tear as she awkwardly made her way to the marble gazebo out in the middle of her mother's dying flower gardens. She slid onto the bench swing inside and wrapped her arms around herself, protecting her naked skin from the cold. The stars twinkled merrily, as they always had. She watched them twinkle, silently admiring the only constant remaining in her life. Tears fell freely down her face now, unchecked.  
  
This was how Vejita found her, alone, with the stars shining and reflecting on her face. By the time he noticed her tears it was too late to turn back around. She started and watched him, wide-eyed, as he took a seat on the railing of the gazebo.  
  
"Your mother's party sucks," he stated flatly. He noticed the corners of her mouth lift a little, and leaned back onto one of the polished supports. "Your idiot friends' opinions have not changed."  
  
Bulma's brow furrowed. "About what?"  
  
"Me. I don't give a damn what they think, I'd like to kill most of them."  
  
They sat silently, contemplating this. Bulma looked back up at the sky.   
  
"Where was Vejitasei? What was it like?"  
  
The question surprised Vejita. He shrugged. "I do not know where to find it. I've never tried. It's gone now anyway." A lie, but she would never figure that out. He stared out at the empty space it had once occupied nearly every night, wishing that he could go back in time and change everything. What was it like? He was sure that she wouldn't want to know. "It was a lot better than this shitty planet." Another lie.  
  
"Thanks," Bulma said sarcastically. "for your fascinating insight."  
  
Vejita looked back into the mansion, catching sight of Goku and Chichi attempting to dance. He scowled and noticed Gohan, their idiot son, running around the house, dodging people's legs and giggling. Vejita's expression darkened when he noticed the dragonball the child was clutching. It reminded him of the time they had spent on Namek. He snuck a glance at the girl next to him. She was much different now. She was more mature, less impulsive than she had been. Back then he had noticed her because of her spunk and pretty face. But now he noticed her because of her haunted eyes and sharp tongue. They were probably the same qualities people noticed in him. He smirked, thinking of this quality they shared.  
  
"Why aren't you inside?" he asked. "I thought you loved a good party."  
  
"That," Bulma said, disgusted. "is not a good party. All of the people I've been trying to avoid in the same room. Lovely."  
  
"Then why did you get all dressed up? So you could impress that pathetic man-whore you called a boyfriend?"  
  
Bulma glared at him now. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm. I wish that you would lighten up about us. We took you in instead of booting you out, as we could, and probably should, have done. Being polite is the least you can do."  
  
"I didn't ask for your hospitality, woman!" Vejita protested. "I could still destroy everything and everyone on this pathetic planet, so don't push it."  
  
Bulma ignored him and stared back into the house. She too noticed Gohan's dragonball. "You would do things differently if you had the chance to go back. You would take the dragonballs back and wish for immortality, and then kill us all. You're not fooling me."  
  
"Probably," Vejita agreed, smirking again. "I wouldn't kill all of you though."  
  
Bulma narrowed her eyes at the arrogant prince. "What are you trying to say?"  
  
Vejita mentally slapped himself for THAT close one. "I would allow Kakkarott to survive, and then kill him slowly so that he could feel the pain. Maybe I would leave his family alive also, so they could watch him die..."  
  
Her angry shriek of protest rang through his sensitive ears, causing him to wince in pain. "Asshole!" He was assailed with weak punches, causing him to laugh at her weakness.  
  
"You're attacking me?" he said, gripping her wrists and applying pressure, just to scare her. He smirked as her eyelids fluttered. She was fighting consciousness, so he released his hold a bit. Her eyes cleared once again and she ceased her attacks. "Smart choice."  
  
She attempted to free her wrists from his grip but was unsuccessful. "Let go of me...," she pleaded half-heartedly. "Come on!"  
  
Vejita found himself leaning in closer. He looked her in the eyes and smirked slowly. "Is that what you really want?"  
  
"Yeah, of--of course that's what I want," she protested unconvincinly. "Duh."  
  
The prince, somewhat disappointed, released her and leaned back once again. Bulma massaged her tiny wrists, still watching him warily. Suddenly, and much to Vejita's surprise, she scooted down next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch. She looked down at her dangling feet, and then back up at him. Her oceanic gaze sent a thrill up his spine.  
  
"Change your mind?" he asked quietly, that haughty smirk growing larger.   
  
She nodded silently and squeezed her eyes shut as they leaned closer to each other, gripping the railing for physical, and not to mention emotional, support. Their lips touched. Bulma cried out and pulled away, jumping off the railing.   
  
"What the fu--" Vejita snarled, also jumping down. "Where do you think you're going, woman?!"  
  
Bulma looked back once, her eyes large and wild, before she ran back onto the patio, slamming the French doors open and not even bothering to close them behind her. Vejita watched her retreating back and swore softly, turning back around and slumping back onto the railing, hating the world and everyone in it.  
  
  
  
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	3. Chapter Three

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
Goku pulled away from the window, shocked. Bulma and...Vejita? Could it even be possible? But then again, Bulma HAD pulled away--did that indicate that the feeling was not mutual? After all, it had only been a day since her breakup with Yamcha, and Bulma was not one to rush those kinds of things. She hadn't been, anyway. Perhaps all of this had been a terrible mistake, the result of the poisonous things Bulma had taken to putting into her body. The confused Saiyan shook his head and once again turned back to the window. Vejita remained on the railing of the gazebo, glaring down at his feet. Bulma trotted unsteadily towards the house, wiping away tears. Goku, not wanting to risk her wrath, hurried back to the party, unprepared to deal with what he had just seen.  
  
Bulma slid the doors shut behind her, sniffling quietly. What was wrong with her? How could she have come so close to kissing VEJITA, the arrogant Prince of All Things Unholy? It was enough to give somebody a heart attack! She leaned back against the glass doors, closed her eyes, and took a deep, soothing breath.  
  
It had been too soon, too fast. She had felt his breath on her face, on her neck, and it had been too fast. She had remembered how Yamcha had loved to kiss her. They'd be sitting, driving, traveling together and he would just lean over and kiss her, unexpectedly. She couldn't help but feel some guilt also--she wasn't totally adapted to being a single woman again. But, she reminded herself, Vejita had made the first move. Which was ANOTHER cause for a heart attack. He had been nothing but sarcastic and judgmental of her ever since he had arrived on Earth--hell, ever since they had met on Namek! How could he possibly be feeling anything more than physical attraction to her? It was hormones, she managed to convince herself. He's only twenty-some, he musn't be completely over that phase yet.  
  
But, a part of her admitted, you weren't exactly reluctant!  
  
"It was a mistake," she whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. "A terrible, terrible mistake."  
  
She looked over her shoulder, out the window. Vejita remained where he had previously been, an expression of irritation on his handsome face. He was rolling a glowing red ball of ki between his fingers absently. Not being able to bear it any longer, she turned back around and exhaled.   
  
"What was a mistake?" a kind, heartbreakingly familiar voice asked.  
  
Bulma was snapped out of her reverie instantly to find herself face-to-face with Yamcha. He wore his favorite charcoal gray suit, with a white baseball jersey peeking out from beneath the jacket. Not surprising--Yamcha couldn't go anywhere without some form of baseball regalia. Seeing him like that, so predictable and level-headed, made Bulma's skin crawl with longing.  
  
"N-nothing..." she muttered, stepping away from the doors. "Nothing at all."  
  
Yamcha swallowed. Apparently Bulma wasn't the only uncomfortable one. "You and Vejita were missing, and Goku came back looking a little troubled--I wanted to make sure that he wasn't harming you in any way. You never know with that guy..." He trailed off uncertainly, shaken by the anguished look on her pale face. "Are you okay, baby? You look a little bewildered. Did that sonuvabitch HURT you?"  
  
"Since when is that YOUR concern?" Bulma spat.  
  
"It will always be my concern, Bulma," Yamcha said sternly. "Even though you're not my girl, you're still my friend."  
  
"Your friend?" Bulma crossed her arms. "Thanks."  
  
"Listen, getting angry isn't going to make it feel any better!" Yamcha exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "I went through EXACTLY what you are when you dumped ME those countless times! You're not the only one in the world that's suffering, Bulma. Think about something besides yourself for once!"  
  
"I don't want to fight with you," Bulma said quietly. "Stop."  
  
"Like hell you don't!" Yamcha ranted. "That's what you live for--a good argument, a good party, a good high...whatever strikes you as interesting at the moment! I need someone who I can depend on."  
  
"I'm trying to stop. Did you hear me? I'M TRYING TO STOP." Tears were flowing again, but Bulma ignored them. "I'm not perfect, Yamcha."  
  
"No," Yamcha replied coolly. "You're not."  
  
Bulma watched sullenly as he turned and slowly made his way back to the party. She blinked, trying to remember exactly when she and Yamcha had ceased to get along. It seemed like just yesterday that he had been standing behind her on the baseball field, chuckling as he adjusted her grip on the bat, murmuring instructions into her ear.  
  
"Choke up a little," he whispered. "You need control of the bat."  
  
"Like that?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"You'll make a ball player of me yet..."  
  
"Now THAT'S wishful thinking!"  
  
Laughter, the hot breath on her neck, the beautiful sunset, the gentle caresses that Bulma had mistakenly taken for granted, not knowing that it would all end soon. They all linked together to form one huge, unbelievably painful memory in Bulma's mind. There would be no more happy days for Yamcha and Bulma. No more dates, no more sex, no more carefree days at the park.  
  
She knew that most girls would be getting over the breakup by now, perhaps even forgotten the pain and moved on, returning to their flirtaceous ways without a second thought. But not Bulma. Yamcha had been special; he had been her only. She had never loved another man in her entire life. Her heart froze over at the knowledge that she would probably never love like that again.  
  
Though it was the last thing she wanted to do, she knew that if she didn't return to the party soon suspicions would arise and someone would come looking for her. She definitely didn't want to be found like this. She ripped a paper towel off the roll hanging next to the sink and cleaned her face, careful not to smudge what remained of her makeup. Screw Yamcha--she would show him that Bulma Briefs was a survivor!  
  
She rolled back her shoulders, lifted her chin, and smoothed her dress, then slowly made her way into the common room.  
  
  
  
  
Vejita watched Bulma move away from the window after her confrontation with Yamcha and disappear into the common room. His hands clenched into fists as he contemplated a proper punishment for her. While seeking revenge on the troubled girl was the furthest thing from his true wishes, he knew that if he did otherwise, he would never be able to live this rejection down. He just prayed that the girl hadn't blurted to somebody stupid like Kakkarott or her idiot ex--for that could swiftly develop into the stuff of nightmares. The last thing he needed was for his bold advancements to become public knowledge.  
  
"Poor little Bulma," he snarled. "You've got something coming."  
  
He thought back to his days on Vejitasei, how Saiyan females would crawl all over each other just to catch a fleeting glimpse of him. Just think what they would have done to receive a mere iota of the attention he paid to this one weak female! She had, indeed, made a very large mistake. Or at least that was what Vejita was struggling to convince himself.  
  
He would return to the ridiculous little party, just to keep Mrs. Briefs off his back. He wished to observe the girl's behavior, to see how she would react to his presence. If she would react at all. How she was holding up after her bastard of an ex-boyfriend had contaminated her mind with his foolish beliefs. He hated himself, degraded himself for having such a weakness, but still he found himself hopping off the railing and walking back into the house, back to the party from hell.  
  
"Something damned good had better come out of all this," he muttered. "Or I might seriously reconsider allowing this planet to remain unscathed."  
  
It was an empty threat and he knew it; for as long as Bulma Briefs lived here, Earth was safe from Prince Vejita's wrath.  
  
  
  
  
Goku rushed to her side as soon as she entered the room, concern clouding his warm brown eyes. He quickly pulled her aside, knowing when he needed to talk to his life-long friend.  
  
"Is everything all right?" he asked, wisely refraining from touching her. "I'm sorry, but I saw you outside with Vejita..."  
  
"Then you should know exactly what's wrong," Bulma snapped. "Shouldn't it be obvious, even to you?"  
  
Goku's hopeful face fell at her harsh words. "Look, Bulma--I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone from now on, since that's what you seem to want." He turned to leave, but Bulma stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You're right, Goku." Her voice was heavy with tears. "I do want to be left alone..."  
  
Though he couldn't comprehend what her statement meant, Goku could understand that she was feeling pain. He took his best friend into his arms and held her as she cried, slowly and carefully leading her out of the room to spare her any more embarrassment. He stopped once they were safely behind the closed doors of her family's library. The bookshelves towered over them ominously in the semi-darkness.  
  
"What do you mean?" the concerned Saiyan asked.   
  
Bulma looked up, pressing her small hands to her cheeks. "Humans suck, Goku--don't you ever become like one of us. Our weak emotions hinder us, and we are bothered by even the tiniest of setbacks." Her miserable tone of voice touched Goku.  
  
"Emotions aren't weak!" Goku protested. "Why, if it weren't for my emotions, I would never been able to go Super Saiyan, and if it weren't for Vejita's emotions, I would most likely be pushing up daisies right now instead of here with you!"  
  
"Vejita doesn't have emotions, besides anger of course," Bulma muttered bitterly. "He's an ass, Goku, I don't see why you waste your time on a monster like him."  
  
Goku smiled knowingly. "Oh come on, Bulma, I know you don't think that."  
  
"What do YOU know?" Bulma demanded. "I know him better than any of you--he's been living in my house for a long time now. That man is the most blood-thirsty, ruthless, arrogant person in the universe. What would I see in HIM?" She then added, "I DO have taste, you know."  
  
"I saw you pull away from Vejita," Goku said awkwardly. "Why? You and Yamcha aren't going out anymore."  
  
Bulma regarded her friend seriously. "Be realistic, Goku. Vejita is...different. Once this unforseen danger is over with, and the androids or whatever are defeated, he will begin his hunt for the dragonballs again. He will never stop until he is the supreme master of the universe and you know it. He trains constantly to acheive Super Saiyan status, to surpass your strength. Once he has passed you up, do you think he's gonna want to stay and be reminded that he was once second best any longer than he must? Besides, I'm not ready for another relationship. I don't think I will be for a little while."  
  
Goku couldn't argue with most of that, but he felt he knew something that Bulma didn't know about the enigmatic Saiyan Prince. Yet, anyway. "I don't think that the gravity room is the only reason he's staying with us, B-chan." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "Let's go back. I'm sure that everybody's wondering what's up by now."  
  
"Chichi especially," Bulma mused. "She probably thinks we've gone and eloped."  
  
"Horses lope, Bulma, not humans," Goku reminded her. Whatever temporary bit of wisdom he had possessed had disappeared. "Didn't you know that?"  
  
  
  
  
By the time they returned, all of the guests but Chichi and Gohan and left. Chichi paced the room, and Gohan skipping along behind her, his furry little tail wagging. Vejita was sprawled out on the leather couch, finishing off the leftovers of the buffet Mrs. Briefs had set out. Various models of Dr. Briefs's robots scurried about, cleaning the place. Chichi rushed the two as soon as they stepped foot into the room.  
  
"Where have you two BEEN?!" she screeched. She turned her glare onto Bulma, who stared calmly back. "And just WHAT were you DOING?"  
  
Bulma answered for Goku, who looked a bit intimidated. "We were in the library, making passionate love on my father's desk."  
  
Chichi turned beet red from head to toe, twitching with anger. Vejita choked on his food, laughing uproarously at her almost comical reaction.  
  
"WHAAAAAAAAT?!!"   
  
"Don't worry, woman, Kakkarott wouldn't know what to do with a dick, even if he had one," Vejita retorted, standing and tossing his plate of food aside. Bulma met his eyes and quickly looked down at her feet. His eyes darkened as he regarded her silently. "And the girl is prude anyway. I wouldn't worry about those two if I were you."  
  
"And YOU would know?!" Chichi said incredulously.   
  
Silence. Bulma was very close to tears, her face was pale and tight with the effort of holding them back. Goku looked bashfully back and forth between Chichi and Vejita, thinking about what he had seen. Chichi's question hung heavily in the air.  
  
"Perhaps," Vejita said quietly. "Weren't you about to leave?"  
  
Chichi looked at Bulma with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Oh Kami!" she breathed. "It can't be true."  
  
Bulma was unresponsive. Once again, silence.  
  
"That's...DISGUSTING!" the older woman spat. Bulma flinched as if she had been struck. "YOU, having relations with that MURDERER? Now he is not the only evil one in our midst. You should be ashamed of yourself!" Even when speaking to someone such as Bulma, she sounded like a mother. "You have disgraced the human race, Bulma Briefs. Keep that in mind next time you think to communicate with MY family."  
  
Tears trailed down Bulma's white face at Chichi's utter indifference as the older woman gathered Goku and Gohan and left. Goku caught a glimpse of her losing control over her emotion just as the door slammed behind him.  
  
  
  
  
Vejita just barely kept his anger in check as the woman sank back onto the couch, obviously irritated over his witnessing her tears. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, struggling for the proper words to say. He watched the woman hide her face behind her long hair and hands, torn between a sarcastic comment and an offer of comfort. Fearing the latter would be too much, he simply blurted the first thing that came into his mind.  
  
"Its not like that bitch knows much about sex anyway..." he said, regretting his words as soon as they spilled out. Bulma lifted a tearstained face up to him, her eyes disbelieving. "I mean, Kakkarott? And sex? Hell will freeze over before he knows a damned thing about what he's doing in THAT situation."  
  
Bulma was incredulous. "And YOU know better? You don't just move in on a girl as soon as her boyfriend dumps her, you know! That's NOT how it works! I've done more crying in the past week than I have my entire LIFE, Your 'Highness'! Don't you think its high time to start leaving me alone? And I am NOT prude, you asshole."  
  
It was Vejita's turn to be startled. "I wasn't the ONLY one ready for some action, little one! If I'm recalling correctly, you AGREED that you wanted it too."  
  
The flustered girl shot up, all thoughts of crying forgotten in her embarrassment. "Now you listen to me, you...you--whatever!" She poked a finger at his chest, her face contorted in anger. "Just because you've been craving a piece of ass doesn't mean that you have to come right on in and break MY heart! You aren't all that, you know--far from it, actually."  
  
"If you continue on this way you won't have to worry about my attitude for very much longer, woman. You'd better quit while you're ahead...well, to a certain point."  
  
"I will NOT!" Bulma's face was determined.  
  
"Yes, you will!" Vejita's face was equally resolute.  
  
"Will not!"  
  
"Will too!"  
  
"Will NOT!"  
  
Vejita was sick of this childish development. He stifled his rising ki and clenched his fists. "YOU encouraged ME, you evil little whore!"  
  
Bulma's face was red to the roots of her hair as her mother and father entered the room, watching the arguement with surprise--and interest. Vejita hardly noticed them.  
  
"I would never associate with a womanizing jerk like you, even if you still had a planet to rule over!"  
  
Vejita's composure never wavered, even at this reference to his planet's destruction. "Too late! You already HAVE!!"  
  
The two stared each other down silently. If looks could kill, they would both be dead. Vejita's face was hard and full of poise, while Bulma's eyebrows were twitching and her expression furious. Dr. and Mrs. Briefs watched with dismay, quite confused over exactly what had happened between the two.  
  
"This is a waste of my time," Bulma muttered, and trudged out of the room. "I hate men."  
  
Vejita smirked at his victory and then suddenly noticed Bulma's parents, who stared right back at him. He shrugged and started to back out of the room. "Right."  
  
As he left, Bulma's father turned to Mrs. Briefs and whispered, "Do you think they've...well, you know..."  
  
Mrs. Briefs smiled and clasped her hands together, her eyes dreamy. "I don't know honey, but I'm determined to find out!"  
  
*********************************************************************************  
  
(A/N): Okay people, let me explain a very simple concept to you before I release you to go through with the lesson and put my teachings to good use. REVIEW. Spelled r-e-v-i-e-w...pronounced ree-veyoo. All you have to do is think of even the simplest, quickest thing to say, then click the button below and type it in. It takes all of, what, two seconds? Its only polite, you know. Us pathetic little ff.net writers need some proper motivation--after all, who do you think we're doing this for? Ourselves?!!   
  
On that note, I hope to be hearing for y'all SOON...... Rhapsody~*  
  
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	4. Chapter Four

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
Vejita awoke the next morning to one hell of a hangover. It wasn't surprising, considering the amount of sleep he had gotten the night before. All night he had tossed and turned, tangling himself in his sheets trying to avoid thinking about the pathetic little human that threatened to take him over and convert him into a carbon copy of Kakkarott--a calm, peace-loving Saiyan who cared for what others thought and had even gone so far as to make a family and settle down with the weak inhabitants of the planet he was supposed to conquer, not give his life for. It all sounded like horse shit to him, but the part of him that, in a way, had already been ruined by Bulma Briefs insisted that no, it wasn't stupid--it was happening to HIM, the Prince of all Saiyans!  
  
The digital clock on his nightstand read 8:30 AM. He had overslept once again. The onna was already causing him to go down the drain, and they hadn't even shared a real kiss! Suddenly loud, heavy-metal rock music blared from the other side of his wall. From Bulma's room. Vejita did a double take and glanced at the clock again, but the digits had not changed. Bulma? Awake at 8:30? A rare event.  
  
"Baka onna and her taste in music..." he grumbled, covering his head with his pillow. But even the pillow and the wall between them couldn't keep the sounds from harming his Saiyan ears. On any other morning, he really wouldn't have minded, considering he liked some of her music, though he would never admit it. But not this morning--all the prince wanted to do was sleep in for a little while longer. "TURN THE DAMNED RADIO DOWN!!"  
  
"Fuck you!" The volume went down for a mere second, long enough for Bulma to shout back, then returned to its original settings.   
  
The disgruntled Saiyan shot out of his warm, soft bed, pulled a pair of pants over his boxers, and stormed into Bulma's room. He glanced at her skimpy pajamas for a quick second, and then forced himself to look away. He scowled at her, stomped over to the radio, and ripped its antenna in half, crumbling it between his hands. The music gave way to a roaring static, causing him to get even more irritated and finally just rip the cord, outlet and all, out of the wall. Bulma looked at him incredulously, her eyes flashing from beneath her messy hair.  
  
"Well," she stammered. "Good morning to you, too."  
  
"The morning is never good in this house," he said through gritted teeth, and stormed back out of her room and into the hallway, too irritated to go back to bed.  
  
  
  
  
Instead of attempting to cover up the angry purple flaws on her face, this morning Bulma didn't care. Let her parents see--what difference would it make? How could it possibly change their opinion of her now? They had, after all, witnessed the run-in with Vejita last night. Though she wouldn't normally do so, she had taken Chichi's nasty words seriously this time. Maybe she really was as twisted as Vejita. She wrapped her arms around herself, studying her reflection in the mirror.  
  
She didn't look particularily different than usual. The dark circles changed her appearance a bit, but it was something she was used to seeing. Shaking her head, she stepped away from the mirror and yanked the first thing she grabbed out of her closet, not even bothering to see what it was, and not really caring.  
  
After raking a comb through her hair, she headed downstairs, following the smells of breakfast and the sounds of her mother's content humming. The untruthful accusations of Goku's wife floated about in her skull, ruining whatever good effect the sunshiney, unusually warm fall morning would have done her.  
  
  
  
  
Mrs. Briefs watched as her daughter slunk down the stairs, trying unsuccessfully to contain her curiosity. As the girl got closer, however, all of her curiosities were forgotten. Either it was the royal purple jogging pants and skin-tight white t-shirt with just a slit of stomach showing that drew her attention (an outfit the 'old' Bulma would have worn, not this new, sullen girl who seemed to favor tight black dresses and spike heels), or it was the bruise-like dark circles under her normally shining blue eyes. Her long hair had been carelessly thrown half-up into a messy sort of bun, with strands hanging down by her face, something else that Bulma never tended to do anymore. The woman furrowed her eyebrows but kept quiet, for once knowing better than to just blurt out whatever was on her mind.  
  
Come to think of it, she mused, Vejita seemed especially quiet this morning also. She couldn't help but hope that something might have happened between the two--something good, of course. She observed the dark Saiyan out of the corner of her eyes, her mind only half on the bacon she was scorching. Mrs. Briefs noticed him tense as her daughter padded by, noticed his black eyes follow her movements, then quickly dart back to the pan of food in her hand, as if his mind was battling which was more important. She smiled as his eyes finally came to rest on the back of Bulma's head as she searched through the refridgerator. It was nice to know that Bulma had found a man that could keep his priorities straight.  
  
"Mom, we have nothing to drink in this house," Bulma complained, emerging from behind the door of the refridgerator with a wine cooler in her small hand. "If I have to drink another one of these damned throat-ticklers I'll hurl."  
  
"That's strange," Bulma's mother pointed out. "You usually don't drink in the morning."  
  
Bulma's eyes came to rest on Vejita, who was seemingly entranced by the sunlight leaking into the kitchen. "Yeah well, perhaps this morning I have some proper motivation." She slid into her usual seat across from Vejita, her posture slouchy. "You owe me another stereo, by the way, and you'd better see to getting that outlet replaced." She watched the Saiyan with her sharp eyes and took a long swig of her drink.  
  
"Bullshit," Vejita grumbled. "I'm sure that your father has something to fix it in that trash heap of his."  
  
Mrs. Briefs raised an eyebrow, remembering how the music coming from Bulma's room had cut off abruptly, followed by shouting. But even remembering this she kept silent, for a wicked idea was brewing in her permed head. "Food's ready kids." She leaned on the counter, watching Vejita devour his food and Bulma down her drink. "You know, I think it would be a great idea if you took Vejita shopping today, dear. The weather's getting colder now, and you both need some sweaters and things." At their identical expressions of protest, she quickly fished some credit cards out of her pocket and handed them to Bulma, who took them grudgingly. "Besides, I think it would be a good idea for both of you to get out of the house."  
  
"I have no need of such petty human things," Vejita said. "I can warm myself with my ki perfectly fine."  
  
But this housewife was not one who was swayed easily. "Oh, come on Vejita! A little bit of fresh air and shopping will be good for both of you." She eyed the dark circles under Bulma's eyes, still a little disturbed. "Fresh air is always healthy..."  
  
Not wanting to ruin the chances of this impromptu outing, Mrs. Briefs began making her way to the door. She was sure to swipe the rest of Bulma's alcohol before leaving.  
  
  
  
  
And that was how Bulma and Vejita ended up side-by-side in her mother's cherry red Camaro, with Bulma's foot heavy on the gas pedal, willing this awful trip to just get over with. She had covered up her dark circles, lined her eyes, and applied some raspberry lip gloss--but only to make herself feel better, she told herself, not because she actually cared what the son of a bitch next to her thought.  
  
As for Vejita, he had only bothered to throw a shirt over his jeans, not really giving a damn what the masses of foolish humans thought. Besides, he was well aware of the fact that he looked good in everything. It wasn't that he had given two seconds to think about what the evil bitch next to him thought. He instead focused on watching the swiftly passing landscape, hoping that he would at least survive the woman's fast driving, let alone the stupid shopping spree ahead of him. He was well aware of how the woman loved to linger at every possible opprotunity at the mall, and was dreading it.  
  
Bulma couldn't help but let out a sigh as they entered the mall--after all, it was one of her favorite places in the world. Swept up in the excitement of it all, she unconsciously grabbed Vejita's hand (she had always held hands with Yamcha while shopping) and dragged him over to the first boutique they encountered, trying to smother the foolish grin that was pulling at the corners of her mouth.  
  
Vejita desperately tried to ignore the fact that Bulma was holding his hand--he inwardly cringed at this gesture of weakness--and tried to concentrate on the various articles of clothing Bulma was accumlating. He had no doubts that he would be forced to wait for her to try it all on later, but he brushed that loathsome thought out of his mind until he absolutely HAD to deal with it.  
  
"Oh Kami, is that a beautiful ring!" Bulma breathed, tapping a long fingernail on the glass display case. "Yamcha never bought me anything THAT exquisite..."  
  
The Saiyan prince picked up on the melancholy in her voice and said the first thing that came to mind, a bad habit he had started to pick up on. "That puny little rock is nothing compared to some of the ones I've seen. On Vejitasei it would be a very unfortunate event for a man to give such a cheap piece of shit to his mate."  
  
"Yeah, well here on EARTH men don't value their girlfriends that much," Bulma answered, surprised. "A girl is lucky to get a free ticket to the movies, for Kami's sake." She released his wrist and stormed out of the store, waiting for him at the exit. "Besides, most of them couldn't even afford it--a problem I suspect no girl of yours has ever had to deal with."  
  
Vejita smirked as he approached her. "No, they haven't. Its not like any girl I've been interested in has had to worry about money anyway."  
  
Bulma fiddled with her diamond studded watch, uncomfortable with the subtext in his comment. "I'm not surprised. I'm hungry again, believe it or not. Let's go eat."  
  
The Saiyan, not being able to turn down a good meal, followed her silently, observing the crowds with a bit of amusement. Never before had he seen such a gathering of weaklings. It would have made wonderful target practice...  
  
Bulma, as if she knew what he was thinking, eyed him with scorn. "Mass murder is not something we practice on Earth," she snapped, crossing her arms and falling into step beside him. "Though in some cases the ability would no doubt come in handy."  
  
Vejita, thinking of the party last night, couldn't agree more.  
  
  
  
  
Goku found them in the food court, eating in a heavy silence and staring off in opposite directions. It struck him as unusual to see them together. After all, only a short while before, they had considered Prince Vejita their enemy and the possible end of the world as they knew it. But for some reason, seeing them together didn't surprise him as much as it did everyone else. Recalling last night, he decided not to greet them in his usual cheery manner, but rather to approach them quietly.   
  
"Hey Bulma! Hey Vejita!" he said calmly. "What's shakin'?"  
  
Bulma offered a small smile, while Vejita hardly looked up. Goku didn't let this faze him.  
  
"Whatcha eating?"  
  
Bulma lifted the dark bottle to her lips, watching him as she drank. "Pizza and beer. Lunch of champions. Why don't you sit down for a little while? That is, if Chichi would think its all right. I am, after all, an evil, manipulating whore, and Vejita here is a mass murderer."  
  
Goku's face fell as he sat down. Bulma's mood swings never failed to baffle him. "Gee, I don't know what to say about last night besides that I'm sorry. You know how Chichi is--she can't help herself."  
  
His childhood friend raised an eyebrow, tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger. "You don't have to apologize for her, Goku. Half of what she said was true, you know."  
  
Vejita snorted. "Personally, I don't think any of it is anybody else's business. Not even Kakkarott's." The black look he shot at his rival spoke for him.  
  
"No," Goku agreed good-naturedly. "Its not. But if you two would lighten up a bit, then maybe I could MAKE it my business. I think that if we could talk this out, I could go back to Chichi and--"  
  
"I don't give a damn what she thinks about me," Bulma snapped, cutting him off. "What I do and who I do it with is none of her business, and she had NO right to attack me in my own home."  
  
Vejita's eyes went to her, searching her face for any additional information. 'What she did and who she did it with?' What was THAT supposed to mean? He couldn't help but hope that perhaps she was coming into her own again, shaking off this strange weakness that had started to take her over, ever since she had come home that one night that had apparently changed her life. He, for one, wouldn't mind seeing the 'old Bulma' start coming out of her shell.  
  
"You're right," Goku said quietly. "But you know Chi--always finding opprotunities to release some of her anger. She didn't mean anything by it, B-chan."  
  
His friend's eyes had hardened again, revealing nothing. "I don't need or want your sympathy, Son Goku. If that's how you think I am--some pathetic little weakling who will melt at your excuses--then you've got me wrong. She did mean something, she always does. If you're just going to try to cover for her and pretend that everything's all right, then maybe you should look for someone else to tell it to. And please don't call me 'B-chan' anymore, it just isn't right." Her sapphire eyes were cold and hard as stone.   
  
Her 'friend' looked genuinely hurt, but she didn't care. For once, she could understand why Vejita had always hated her friends--they were incredibly ignorant. Goku didn't even realize that she was serious, Yamcha couldn't seem to figure his own girlfriend out, and Chichi couldn't see past her own bitterness to the feelings of others. She wasn't even going to allow herself to think about the rest of the motley crew. She held her tongue until Goku was safely out of earshot and then looked Vejita straight in the eye.  
  
"I think I understand why you would want to leave this place," she said quietly, slamming her beer back onto the table. "They all get old pretty fast."  
  
The prince sighed, looking up at the skylights. "It doesn't matter how any of us feel. There isn't anywhere else to go. There WAS Namek, but that's only if you wanted to live with a bunch of fucking tree-huggers for the rest of your life."  
  
Bulma, much to his surprise, burst out laughing. "I think that this is the most civil you've been since we've met, Your Highness."  
  
Vejita cocked an eyebrow. "Don't get your hopes up, woman, its only because you fed me."  
  
  
  
  
They refrained from speaking to each other until Bulma dragged him into a fancy department store and strode right for the dress section. Vejita watched as she ran her hands over the rich fabric of a short black dress.  
  
"Why you love those things is beyond me," he complained. "You probably have more than this dump could ever hope for."  
  
Bulma smiled wistfully. "If you were a normal human male you'd understand. The little black dress is an essential part of a girl's wardrobe. It looks good for every occasion and is the most flattering garment ever. Without one, you could hardly be considered a woman!" She plucked her size from the rack, giving Vejita a playful wink. "You can never have too many."  
  
The price could not be fooled. "There is another reason you waste space with those trashy pieces of shit."  
  
Her smile evaporated. "I hate you. Yes, there is...I guess. I was wearing one the first time I met Yamcha. There--does that satisfy you?"  
  
"You waste your time with such memories and tricks to win the bastard back. He's forgotten you, obviously. He's better off with that idiot sport of his than with women anyway."  
  
Bulma frowned. "That may be so, but I'm not. Wait for me while I try this on."  
  
Later, as they made their way across the parking lot, Vejita noticed a lone tear sliding down her cheek. At his quizzical look, the girl's face crumpled.  
  
"I wish that I hadn't smashed his window," she whimpered.  
  
Vejita, not knowing what to do about the sobbing girl, did what came naturally. "Its too bad you didn't smash his face in instead."  
  
Bulma looked at him incredulously and ran the rest of the way to the car, her skinny arms wrapped around herself protectively. Vejita, knowing what it was like to relive your bad memories, did not try to catch up to her.  
  
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(A/N): Sorry about how this chapter might have dragged on a bit--I'm in that kind of mood. What a gloomy October day, ne? Perhaps Stef-chan can update "A Shoulder To Lean On III" to make me feel better....ha sorry about that...I couldn't help myself! Anyhow, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review! (Don't make me repeat my review lesson again--it won't be so polite the next time!) ^.~ Ja ne!  
  
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	5. Chapter Five

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
Mrs. Briefs sprung out of her chair the instant the front door slammed. Surprisingly, as she made her way to the front hallway, she heard no traces of conversation or even the usual arguement. Frowning, she picked up her pace and hurried to the entrance of the hall.  
  
"Bulma, Vejita," she called. "How did it go?"  
  
She was dismayed to see only three shopping bags total, in comparison to Bulma's usual minimum of seven. Bulma clutched the largest one to her chest, her small hands kneading into the plastic spasmatically. Vejita, much to Mrs. Briefs' surprise, carried the other two. Vejita actually displaying manners was a rare occasion indeed. She wondered what had happened.  
  
"Fine, Mom," Bulma said monotonously, concentrating very hard on slipping off her shoes.   
  
"Slim pickings?" her mother asked, nodding towards the bags.  
  
Bulma looked up like she hadn't realized that she hadn't purchased much at all. "Uh...yes, yes--very slim pickings. I did find another dress though." She smiled privately to herself, but even that was fleeting.  
  
Mrs. Briefs' brow furrowed. "Oh, dear. You worry me with those black dresses, Bulma. I think its becoming a horrid habit. You must bring yourself out of this hole." And then, eyeing the bags once again. "As soon as possible."  
  
Vejita tossed the other two packages to the woman, who caught them clumsily. He regretted doing it, realizing that he had drawn Mrs. Briefs' fussing onto himself instead of Bulma, who was starting look very relieved. Vejita thought of it as a favor and reminded himself to use it to his advantage the next time the gravity machine broke down or the fridge wound up empty. Or if he needed any sexual relief...  
  
"Stop looking at me like that!" Bulma hissed quietly, so that her mother couldn't hear. "What's your problem?"  
  
"The sight of the fat hanging over your pants is giving me a headache."  
  
"Oh, Vejita!" Mrs. Briefs cooed, oblivious. "How did YOU like the little trip?"  
  
"You mean shopping with the woman while she's in a bad mood, meeting Kakkarott while consuming food, and being dragged to every jewelry boutique in the mall?" Vejita crossed his arms. "I had one hell of a morning." He abruptly walked off towards the gravity room, not bothering to wait for Mrs. Briefs' reply.  
  
"He may be awfully good-looking," she mused. "But he can be so strange sometimes!"  
  
  
  
  
Later that day, Bulma dragged herself out of her room and to her family's aerobics room sullenly. Though she had never made a set habit of it, she liked to stay in shape so that she could get away with her more flashy outfits. It was something that she had been doing ever since she met Yamcha--he had even showed her a little bit of the martial arts. While she would never be as strong as him or Krillen, and it was hopeless to even consider Vejita or Goku's strength, she secretly liked to practice what little she knew, just in case.  
  
The aerobics room was quite large, with mirrors and mats covering the walls. It was very well equipped, since even Vejita occasionally came in to fool around with the weights or the treadmill. Bulma eyed the machines with disdain and prayed that the prince would not make an appearance today. She had some tension to work off. She flipped on the stereo hanging on the wall as she passed by, pleased when loud rap music blared forth from the small speakers.  
  
Hiking up her tiny basketball shorts, Bulma fiddled with the buttons on the treadmill and stepped onto it gingerly, starting out slow and increasing her pace as time went by. As she ran, she deemed it a good time to mull over the turmoil going on inside her head, as painful as she guessed it would be.  
  
"Yamcha," she growled between heavy breaths. "You asshole..."  
  
That was the way she typically reacted to her problems, she observed. With either anger or depression. She clenched her fists and set the treadmill's pace faster. Well, wasn't she entitled? After all, Yamcha had cast her out like yesterday's news, something she would NEVER be. She had had every right to throw that shoe--like Vejita had said, she should have done more than just destroy a window. While she would not have caved his face in as Vejita might have, she at least should have blackmailed him or something.   
  
"How immature. I haven't done that since high school," she ridiculed herself. She ignored the fact that it had only been a few years since her own graduation.  
  
She looked at the timer and furrowed her eyebrows. It had only been eight minutes and she was winded already!   
  
"I've got to stop with the crack," she muttered. "Kami!"  
  
Suddenly the door to the room slammed, and as she turned her head to better see her intruder, Bulma lost her balance and tumbled off the machine awkwardly, landing on her bottom painfully. Rubbing her sore spot, Bulma rose slowly to her feet. "Who's there?"  
  
"Who do you think?" was the dry reply.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Bulma tugged at her tiny pair of shorts and sports bra uncomfortably. "How many times do I have to remind you to knock, Kami-dammit? You aren't royalty HERE, you can't just burst in whenever you like!"  
  
"Got something on your mind?" Vejita inquired sarcastically, eyeing the timer on the treadmill. "You hardly ran ten minutes."  
  
"What's it to you? I'm human, remember? For a girl, that's pretty damn good."  
  
"Its hard to forget." The man adjusted the towel around his neck and crossed his arms. "By all means, continue."  
  
Bulma, glaring at him as she walked by, returned to her treadmill. She could feel Vejita's eyes sweep over her bare skin and glimmering bellybutton ring and picked up her pace, trying to ignore the creepy sensation. "How's the view?" she snapped.  
  
"Not nearly as nice as it should be," he said. "You had better make this a habit."  
  
"Screw you," Bulma said smugly, adjusting her ponytail as she ran. "I'm beautiful."  
  
She watched Vejita in the mirrors, not being able to stop herself from admiring HIS physique. He had a much nicer body than Goku, she observed in the back of her head. More solidly built, not so lanky and tall. Being short of stature herself, she supposed she could appreciate that. Besides, she had always liked buff men. Lucky for her she had Goku as a friend, she mused. What connections she had! She was in the same room as Saiyan royalty, after all. Not that she wasn't an important person herself...  
  
"This equipment is pathetic," Vejita complained, tossing the largest weights up and down effortlessly.   
  
"You have a fucking gravity room," Bulma panted. "Isn't that enough for Your Highness?"  
  
"That's hardly enough for a Super Saiyan," he continued, ignoring her. "It breaks down every time I transform."  
  
"Bullshit! You're lucky to have it and you know it. Why don't you be grateful for what you have for once in your life?" She watched him glance over at her outfit again and smirk slowly.  
  
"Believe me woman, I am."  
  
She rolled her eyes and turned off the treadmill, taking a deep breath. "Very funny. You know, most men would kill to be in your position."  
  
"Except for your ex, right?" Vejita said dryly. "And that's why you were in here. I know what its like to work off your emotions, woman. Your little act fails to impress me."  
  
"Apparently, a lot does." Bulma approached him carefully. "You know nothing about emotions."  
  
Vejita gave her a knowing look. "Wouldn't it be enlightening for you to get into my head...I've seen things that would make you quiver."  
  
"You've probably been the cause of most of them, I'd bet."  
  
"Some," he admitted seriously. "Not nearly as much as I should have. I have gotten soft. Perhaps I should go on another killing spree, as I promised when I first arrived here. If you humans thought that Cell was bad, than just wait until somebody pisses ME off. Death by my hands does not come so swiftly."  
  
Bulma poked him in the chest with one ringed finger, getting angry herself. "Why do you always separate us like that? 'You humans' this, and 'you weaklings' that. Like it or not, Vejita, you're living with us now. I took you in despite what everybody said, you could at least stop saying that when you're around me. I'm sick of being called weak! I certainly don't need to hear it from YOU anymore!"  
  
"Why is it that you DID take me in, hmm?" Vejita narrowed his dark, troubled eyes at the girl before him. "I'm sure that I'm not the only one who would like to know. Kakkarott seems especially interested in our 'relationship'."  
  
Bulma's cheeks colored slightly, and she shifted her weight awkwardly. "You would laugh."  
  
Vejita chuckled, sitting down on a bench and smirking. "Probably. But my reaction will be a hell of a lot worse if you refuse to tell me."  
  
"Fine," Bulma spat. "I took you in so that they wouldn't think I'm so terribly weak. Everybody else was too terrified of you to look you in the eye, let alone to allow them to LIVE with you. Hell, I was terrified to take you in, too. Until I got to know you better after that. I think that your dying while fighting Frieza settled it. I could totally relate to that--I would have done the same thing, but I probably would have done it out of selfish reasons, not because I wanted to spare the universe from that scum. I thought that because of that, you might not be quiet as evil as everybody thought. But you've definitely proved me wrong!" She added the last bit on hastily and blushed furiously. To herself, she thought that his dark looks hadn't hurt either.  
  
The prince watched her more seriously now, understanding showing in his usually closed-off eyes. "You weren't afraid to look me in the eye." It was plain as day that something else was on his mind, even to Bulma. He tossed his towel to her and watched as she dried herself off silently.   
  
"I...here," Bulma said dully, returning his towel.  
  
Vejita stood and exited the room without exercising. "Thank you," he said once he was out of earshot. He slammed the door behind him, still clutching the damp towel.  
  
  
  
  
Goku sighed as he made his way slowly up the Briefs' long driveway. He could have flown and made it in half the time, but he wasn't exactly eager to get there as fast as he could. In fact, he was absolutely dreading what he was coming to do. Apologizing to both Bulma and Vejita could prove to be especially difficult, considering how headstrong and sarcastic they could both be.  
  
"Listen, Bulma," he practiced, concentrating so hard a worry line appeared between his brows. "I think that I can learn to understand how you feel about Chichi. I'm really sorry for butting into you and Vejita's business..." He stopped abruptly, listening to how their names sounded in the same sentence. Secretly, he had been wondering at Chichi's words, especially since their encounter at the mall earlier that day. Was it even possible...?  
  
The Briefs' mansion came into view, cutting his practice time short. Taking a deep breath, he stepped up the front door and rang the doorbell anxiously. He couldn't remember the last time he was this nervous! Thankfully, Dr. Briefs opened the door.  
  
"Why hello, Son Goku!" he greeted warmly, motioning for him to come inside. "Are you here to see Bulma, or perhaps to spar with Vejita?"  
  
"Actually, I'm here to see both of them," Goku said as brightly as he could. "Are they busy?"  
  
Dr. Briefs thought for a moment. "Well now, I'm not sure. The last I saw of them was as I passed by the aerobics room. They actually seemed to be having a civil conversation! Will wonders never cease?" Then, remembering Goku, he smiled. "I'll fetch them right away."  
  
Goku grinned in reply and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He usually preferred his typical orange gi, but Chichi had insisted that if Vejita could dress like a normal human person, so could he. In spite of her assurances, he still wasn't so sure. Vejita adapted a lot easier than he thought he ever could.   
  
Vejita slunk into the room, a towel slung over his shoulder. He did not look to be in a good mood, Goku noticed with dread. This was not going to be easy. The other man regarded him with indifference, but Goku ignored that, knowing better.  
  
"Hey Vejita..."   
  
"Save it," Vejita snapped, crossing his arms. "I am not interested in your apologies."  
  
"But how did you kn--" He was cut off by another angry look.   
  
Bulma suddenly entered the room, dressed in her basketball shorts and sports bra, which made Goku blush momentarily. The girl gave him an exasperated look and adopted a stubborn stance similiar to Vejita's. Goku was finally understanding the full weight of the task ahead of him. He scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously before starting.  
  
"Listen guys, I think that you two were right earlier. It was none of my business. Don't worry, I won't bring up the subject EVER again, kay?" He frowned at his hasty apology, struggling to think of what else to say. "Just to show that there's no hard feelings, I'm inviting you over to my house to watch the football game later. Sound good?"  
  
"Sounds BORING," Bulma retorted. "Football?! Honestly Goku, that might do it for Vejita but you're gonna have to do a little better than that to convince ME!"  
  
"Uhhh...and then we'll have some target practice...and...play around with your new guns...?"  
  
Bulma's eyes danced. "You've known me for far too long, my friend. I'm in."  
  
Vejita eyed with her renewed interest. "Target practice? Since when do you ever do THAT?"  
  
"Wowee Vejita!" Goku exclaimed. "I almost forgot that you weren't with us on the dragonball hunt! Bulma protected us with her guns...You know, those black things that shoot--"  
  
"I know what a gun is, you retard!" Vejita growled. "SHE protected YOU? Ha!"  
  
Bulma winked at Goku. "You have to remember, this was way before Goku had fully begun to realize his powers. Before YOU guys came into our lives and ruined things." Then, as the corner of Vejita's mouth began to curl into a smirk, she added, "I think I'll go get ready now."  
  
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(A/N): Here's some answers to the questions you people have been firing off at me: Yes, folks, I am still in high school, as some of you were wondering. I AM gonna write another fic, though I'll most likely wait until this one is finished. Don't worry, there isn't THAT much more to go. I have to make a couple of these filler chapters here and there so things won't get too rushed. As for the next fic, it will NOT be a sequel (I'm sick of trilogies and the like, too much work...LoL!). I'm thinking of doing either a high school fic (Yep, that's right Gina!) or maybe an A/U. I LOVE those damned things. I've got several good ideas for that one, but I might need a little bit of inspiration for the high school idea...tell me what y'all think, k? With all of that said, PLLLEEEEEEEEEEEASE remember to review! Its only polite! Rhapsody~*  
  
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	6. Chapter Six

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
From her perch on the arm of the uncomfortable couch in Goku's living room, Bulma rolled her eyes and sighed, bored out of her mind. She was dressed in her favorite pair of perfectly faded jeans and a flowery peasant top that was hardly suited the chilly late-autumn temperatures. Her hair was loosely pulled up, allowing strands to hang out here and there. Somehow she managed to pull the look off, though she had never doubted her ability to.  
  
"Touchdown!" Goku shouted, jumping off of the crowded couch and doing a ridiculous victory dance. "Ha, Vejita!"  
  
"I should be the one celebrating," Vejita said smugly, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Personal foul on the offense. You and your pathetic losing team are screwed." He smirked as the referree called the penalty and Goku settled back into the couch, his expression grim.  
  
Even Saiyan men can't resist televised sports, Bulma mused. How they can survive watching an entire game in one sitting is beyond me, especially when Vejita can't even sit through a mere ten minutes of one of MY shows.  
  
"Who do you think is gonna nail this one, B-chan?" Goku asked her, oblivious to the fact that she had no idea what the hell was going on.  
  
Bulma smiled at her friend apologetically. "I don't mean to take sides, Goku, but I'm with Vejita. I've seen him win too many of your little bets to deny it."  
  
Vejita raised an eyebrow at Bulma, who, ironically, had been seated on the arm right next to him. It was especially hard to focus on the game with her in such close proximity, he was noticing. Especially with the nearly transparent top she was sporting. He went along on that train of thought without even thinking twice. As her heard more of she and Goku's history, he was baffled as to why Goku had chosen plain, predictable Chichi as his mate over Bulma. He supposed it was because Bulma intimidated Goku, and he could hardly blame him. She could definitely be a little spitfire, to say the least. If Goku were a REAL Saiyan things would have ended up very differently, of that he was certain.  
  
The prince's train of thought was broken as the front door slammed and sounds of idiotic laughter reached his ears. He felt Bulma tense beside him and watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Yamcha must be one of the visitors, he observed. She was as stiff as a board, her eyes were blank, and a determined expression had crossed her face. Tearing his eyes away from her, he saw that he had been correct in his assumptions. Yamcha, Krillen, and the green Namekian freak had arrived, carrying various snack items. Vejita immediately noticed that there was hardly enough to go around and fleetingly imagined himself shoving the shortage of junk food down Yamcha's throat.  
  
The seating arrangement was the first thing that Yamcha noticed as he entered the living room. Though Bulma was no longer his girl and there had been some bitter words between them, he still cared for her, and hated to see her so close to their evil neighborhood prince. Knowing better, he restrained himself from commenting and instead made himself maintain his friendly smile. He was, after all, here to watch football, not to sulk about Bulma and Vejita's strange relationship.  
  
"I thought that I'd never see the day when the Namek lowered himself to watching football with the 'gang'," Vejita quipped, that vicious smirk on his face once again.  
  
Piccolo was not amused. "I could say the same about you, Saiyan."  
  
Bulma smacked Vejita on the shoulder and offered a warm smile. "Its been too long, Piccolo. How are, well, things?" she asked, pointing to the sky.  
  
Piccolo regarded the human girl and Saiyan Prince. Until now he had hardly been able to believe what had been going on down on Earth. "Interesting as of late."  
  
Bulma quirked a brow but wisely did not comment. Rather than acknowledge Yamcha, she turned back around and pretended to be focused on the halftime show.  
  
"Hey guys, its halftime so we're gonna go out and see how Bulma's shooting skills are holding up!" Goku exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and seizing Bulma's hand. Piccolo, ever observent, noticed Vejita narrow his eyes defensively and allowed himself a smug smile. "Come on!"  
  
Bulma pulled a capsule out of her pocket and rolled it between her fingers uncertainly. "I don't know about my skills anymore, Goku. Its been awhile since I've done this."  
  
Goku waved off her protest and dragged her outside, followed by the rest of the gang, minus Chichi, who had remained absent the entire time, much to Bulma's relief. Bulma opened the capsule and examined the small pile of automatics of her own invention at her feet. Vejita pushed his way to her side and picked up the largest gun in the pile, turning it over in his hands.  
  
"There is no way in hell that I'm missing out on this," he said, adjusting the settings on the gun easily.   
  
Yamcha, ever competitive, also stepped forward and chose the second largest gun, much to Vejita's amusement. "Neither am I!"  
  
Bulma stroked her favorite handgun absently, remembering how powerful it was in spite of its modest size, lost in her childhood memories while Goku set up three targets. "Here we go..." she whispered, eyeing the target with a trained eye.  
  
"At the count of three," Goku said.   
  
Vejita, ignoring him, lifted his gun and hit a bullseye effortlessly, smirking in triumph. "Damn I'm good..."  
  
"Shit!" Yamcha's bullet clipped the outside of the target. He scowled in response to Vejita's bragging.  
  
Both men turned to watch Bulma, who was lining up her shot carefully. Much to their surprise, her bullet hit dead center on the first try. Yamcha offered a thumbs up but was promptly ignored. Vejita, however, opened himself up to the challenge.  
  
"You think you're good?" he challenged. "Watch this."  
  
All eyes were on Vejita was he took aim and successfully dotted the 'i' in 'Nike' on Yamcha's flapping jacket. The shocked baseball player jumped about four seconds too late, glaring at Vejita with obvious rage. "You--you SHOT at me, you asshole!"  
  
"Nice shot, eh?" Vejita said wickedly, tossing his gun back into the pile and grinning crookedly as it went off, causing everyone to start once again.  
  
"Kami," Bulma breathed, exasperated with the Saiyan. She aimed and doubled the size of his hole on Yamcha's jacket, much to her ex's dismay. "I think that's a draw. Where did you learn to shoot like that?"  
  
"Don't be stupid, woman," he replied. "Saiyans do not restrict their fighting to ki's."  
  
Bulma snorted. "I find that hard to believe, considering a typical Saiyan's brain capacity," she muttered to herself.  
  
"You're half right," Vejita said smugly. She had forgotten his Saiyan hearing. "We stole the technology, most of the time."  
  
"You shut up!" she snarled hotly, storing the guns back into the capsule and stuffing it into her bra, much to the men's amusement. "I'm getting sick of this. Besides, its cold!"  
  
Goku smiled as she stomped back into his house. "Its really great to see her back to her normal self!" He looked at Vejita quizzically. "What changed her?"  
  
"She went shopping, Kakkarott," the other Saiyan pointed out, avoiding Goku's eyes. "Doesn't that put just about every woman back into her element?"  
  
Yamcha stepped forward, pointing at Vejita accusingly. "What happened, you liar?! What did you do to her?"  
  
The prince smirked. "Trust me, if I had done something she would be a hell of a lot happier than THAT. I'll excuse your stupidity though, because you obviously know nothing about pleasing a woman."  
  
Vejita put himself on the defensive as Yamcha charged blindly at him, prepared for the awkward attack. The others winced helplessly as he flung him over his head and delivered a swift blow to Yamcha's gut without any effort. Yamcha remained on the ground, writhing in pain.  
  
"That's what you get, you fool!" Vejita growled, standing over the human unsympathetically. "The next time you attack me I will not be so merciful."  
  
"Come on Vejita," Goku scolded as he rushed to Yamcha's side. "You didn't have to be so harsh."  
  
"I do not need you to tell me what to do!" Vejita crossed his arms and scowled. "Leave him alone. Even he isn't pussy enough to need help from you."  
  
Yamcha sat up slowly, glaring at Vejita. "If I hear about you laying even a hand on her, I'll kill you!"  
  
"An empty threat," Vejita replied. "Giving me a bruise is beyond your abilities. The woman could kick your ass, most likely. You have obviously not been training as of late."  
  
"That's enough Vejita," Piccolo said. "You've done more than your share already. I think it would be a good idea to get back inside now."  
  
"Halftime's probably almost over," Krillen offered timidly, with a quick glance at Vejita, whose silent anger was apparent.  
  
As if on cue, Bulma stepped out of the house and called to them impatiently. "Game's back on!" Then, noticing Yamcha on the ground, she furrowed her eyebrows in puzzlement. "What's going on?"  
  
"Just a little male bonding," Yamcha called back, grimacing in pain. He looked at Goku, quiet anger shining in his brown eyes. "There's no sense in upsetting her."  
  
As he passed, Vejita gave Yamcha the most malicious look he had ever received. It was a sure sign that things were not over between the two headstrong men.  
  
  
  
  
"Why was Yamcha on the ground today?" Bulma asked, tightening her desperate grip around Vejita's neck. This would be the last time he flew her ANYWHERE. Even afer slowing down twice they were still at a breakneck speed. And high up. VERY high up. "You don't have to lie to me, I'm not stupid, okay? Yamcha doesn't get bruises from slipping and falling on Goku's nice grassy lawn."  
  
Vejita scowled, uncertain what to tell her. Though he hated to admit it, Yamcha had been right about not mentioning anything to Bulma. She was having a hard enough time getting over him without this little bit of encouragement. The prince hated himself for even bothering to spare her feelings. "Stop acting so damned suspicious, woman. My allowing you to fall to a painful death IS a possibility."  
  
"Oh, fuck off..." she whined. "You wouldn't drop me."  
  
Vejita could not resist the temptation a moment more. He suddenly and deliberately released his hold on her and smirked as she slid, screaming, out of his arms and plummeted the ground below. He allowed her to fall a good two hundred feet before retreiving her.  
  
She was silent as she shifted her position, her cheeks red in anger. Vejita was just about to say something to her when he was smacked with surprising, if not weak, force across the face, causing him to drop Bulma once again. This time, she did not scream.  
  
"Dammit, woman!" Vejita protested once he had collected her again. "What the hell was that for? If you were killed I'd have to attend your funeral, and I cannot spare that kind of time from my training."  
  
"Its nice to know that I'm held in such high regard." She remained strangely silent until they touched down on the Capsule Corps lawn. The girl sighed, happy to be safely on the ground again. "Thank Kami that trip is over. You are so inconsiderate."  
  
"Consider yourself lucky. If you had been anyone else I would have let you fall to your death."  
  
"So this means that I'm not just anybody?" Bulma's tone was teasing, but it was a serious question.  
  
Vejita snorted. "Of course you aren't. You fix my gravity room."  
  
Bulma huffed indignantly and put her hands on her hips. "You know, Vejita, being alone for the rest of your long Saiyan life is not going to be fun."   
  
"Who ever said that I was looking for company?"   
  
"I wasn't saying that! I was just pointing out that if you continue being so cold to everyone you meet, even someone you've been LIVING with, then that's how your life is gonna turn out." Bulma glared at him with her hard blue eyes and then proceeded to the house, shaking her head.  
  
"The same could be said for you," Vejita shouted after her, angry at her prying comments. "You're as bad as a lovesick puppy and you know it."  
  
Bulma didn't turn around but waved off his true (?) comment and entered the house, mulling over his words. She knew that he was right, of course, but she wasn't about to admit anything to him. It was, after all, none of his royal business. She slipped off her shoes and padded to the kitchen, where her mother was busy chopping vegetables for dinner. The woman did not look up as Bulma took a seat at the table and stared blankly at the wall.  
  
"Did you have a nice time?" her mother asked, still chopping away. "Where's Vejita?"  
  
Bulma considered her answer. She could either snap at her mother or reply truthfully. She found the former to be too tiring, and predictable. She wasn't about to prove Vejita's assumptions correct. "It was going smoothly until Yamcha showed up perfectly fine and left with battle scars left by some unknown force. As for Vejita, who knows? Probably in the gravity room."  
  
"Your hair looks a little tousled, and your clothes are all out of place" Mrs. Briefs commented, a mischevious twinkle in her eye. "Did something happen between you and our prince that I should know about?"  
  
"Yes, he dropped me. Twice." Bulma grabbed a carrot and snapped it in half uncerimoniously, contemplating eating it.  
  
"Oh, dear. I suppose it'll take more than good food and a gravity room to tame that man."  
  
"No shit," Bulma said. A guarded expression passed over her face. "Hey Mom, do you think that...well, that..." She trailed off uncertainly, snapping the carrot into smaller and smaller sections.  
  
"What?" Mrs. Briefs pressed, interested in spite of herself.  
  
"That I'm acting like a lovesick schoolgirl?" Bulma finally blurted, shoving the carrot pieces into her mouth to stop herself from asking any more embarrassing questions.  
  
"Who pointed that out to you?"   
  
"Vejita--who else?"  
  
Mrs. Briefs smiled and looked up from the vegetables. "Well, once you put it that way...I suppose so. Don't beat yourself up about it, dear. Just take some steps to stop it, and your sorrow will simply...blow over. You've gotten over all of the other times you two have broken up."  
  
"But this time, its final," Bulma said sadly, staring down at her hands. "I guess it wasn't so much the break-up, it was Yamcha's reasons for it."  
  
"Care to elaborate?"  
  
Bulma frowned and a shadow came over her face. "He said that all I think about is partying and...things." Her eyes narrowed. "I suppose its true. But I haven't done very much since then, and he just wouldn't let me explain myself. He wouldn't give me a second chance."  
  
Mrs. Briefs' voice became serious. She knew what her daughter had been getting into. "Your relationship has been full of second chances. Eventually, your chances will run out, and there is nothing that you or Yamcha can do about that. You have your whole lives ahead of you, and neither of you need these kinds of distractions."  
  
"I guess you're right," Bulma admitted. "I've been cutting down, its just that its so hard. Its so--addicting."  
  
"Let's not discuss that please," her mother said. "I most certainly do not need those kinds of thoughts about my daughter floating around in my head."  
  
"Bullshit, Mom. Its only crack."  
  
"Yes, just like Vejita's beating himself up into a bloody pulp is only training!" The woman completed her chopping and tossed her knife into the sink, where it was immediately cleaned by one of Dr. Briefs' robots. "Speaking of Vejita, I'm surprised its taken him this long to come and interrogate me about dinner. I wonder what's on his mind?"  
  
Bulma slid off of her chair and ran a hand over her hair. "I'm going to change. Call for me when dinner's ready."  
  
Mrs. Briefs nodded and leaned against the counter, lost in her thoughts already.  
  
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(A/N): Is Mrs. Briefs suspecting something? Does she know something that Bulma does not? Find out next time in another exciting chapter of....nevermind. Anyhow for those of you who do not know yet, I have posted the prologue of my next fic, "Youth of the Nation", just to give you all a little taste of what's next. I don't expect to add onto it until this one is completed, though, sorry! It won't be too much longer, guys, don't fret. Do not be scared away by the prologue--the rest of the story won't be so dark, it'll be more like a normal (somewhat) high school fic. To VegetasWifey--even with my limited experience with goths, I would have never guessed your true identity! LoL! I'm kidding...that's okay, whatever floats your boat I guess! Anyways please remember to review so I can feel remotely special and get some motivation to continue...mwhahahhaaahahaa! Btw---Stef-Chan you are the best reviewer in the entire world!!! Thanks for inflating my ego....the compliments were great! All I ask is to write a fic that could be half as good as one of yours! LoL! Thanks soooo much I'll try to keep those one-liners/aerobic room scenes coming...of course Bulma is self-conscious about her figure...she's not invincible you know! Thanks so much!  
  
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	7. Chapter Seven

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
In spite of his constant state of hunger, Vejita found it unusually difficult to swallow his dinner that night. It may have been because of the heavy workout he had just had, or perhaps it was Bulma's sudden restoration of happiness. It could have been those things, but he was more willing to bet that it was because as soon as he had walked into the dining room Bulma's parents had gone silent, and had remained uncomfortably so until Bulma graced them with her presence. It was all he could do to keep his food down.  
  
"I've been thinking about...what you said earlier," Bulma informed her mother between tiny bites. Vejita wondered what they had been discussing--underneath his uncaring persona, he really was nosy person. "You were right. I'm working on it."  
  
"How sweet," Vejita said dryly, tossing his fork down on his plate, enjoying how the family jumped at the clattering sound. "Is anybody gonna let me in on this little project?"  
  
Bulma gave him a disgusted look. "In your dreams. The LAST person I would tell is you."  
  
Dr. Briefs raised an eyebrow. "You know, Bulma, Vejita is just like a member of our family now, maybe..."  
  
"Daddy," Bulma exclaimed, exasperated. "He was JOKING. You don't really think that Vejita dotes on the details of my life like he actually CARES, do you?"  
  
"She's got a point, old man." Vejita smirked and found his appetite returning. "Besides, its obviously something about that jackass baseball player of hers, and I'm sure the details of THAT relationship are not something I'd like to hear over dinner."  
  
"Funny!" Bulma said, hurling her napkin at the Saiyan, who smoothly dodged it. "You don't always have to be such an asshole, Vejita!"  
  
"Now, now children," Mrs. Briefs scolded half-heartedly. "Arguing ruins the meal, don't you think?"  
  
"Nothing ruins food," Vejita grumbled, knowing that that wasn't entirely accurate. People trying to scrutinize you ruined food--he was talking from personal experience here. Looking up, he noticed both Mrs. and Dr. Briefs staring at him again. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!"  
  
They looked a bit stricken at first, but eventually Mrs. Briefs recovered with a little private giggle. "Oh, nothing!"  
  
"So 'nothing' is why you freaks have been staring at me this entire time?"  
  
Bulma could not miss this opprotunity. "Staring at YOU? Over DINNER? What a way to ruin your appetite!"  
  
"Shut up woman, or I'll give you a good reason to lose your appetite," Vejita snapped, crossing his arms.   
  
Dr. Briefs stood and stepped back as a cleaning bot came by to take his plate. "This really is an intriguing conversation, but I really must be returning to my office. I have several important things to take care of."  
  
"I'd better see to making dessert!" Mrs. Briefs exclaimed, and skipped to the kitchen, leaving Bulma and Vejita alone.   
  
Bulma glanced at Vejita, a similiar expression of puzzlement on her face. "What was THAT all about?"  
  
"I cannot eat while your foolish parents study me like some kind of lab rat," Vejita said irritably. "How would your appetite be?"  
  
Bulma frowned. "The same as yours was, I guess. I think I have a guess as to why they disappeared so fast, though." At this comment her face reddened slightly. "And I DON'T like it."  
  
"Care to share?" Vejita was not about to miss out on something that could be used to embarrass her.   
  
"Fine, but if you make fun of me I swear I'll rig that gravity machine so the next time you turn it on you'll become a Saiyan pancake!" Bulma threatened seriously. Vejita smirked. "My mom gave me this lecture about getting over Yamcha and stuff, and...I suppose she's trying to uh--well...get my mind off of Yamcha, if you get what I'm saying."  
  
The thoughts behind the incredibly naughty smirk that slowly crossed Vejita's face was unmistakable. Bulma nearly groaned, regretting her words. "Oh really? Perhaps that can be arranged..."  
  
"You'd better keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself, monkey boy, because it isn't happening." Bulma jumped out of her chair and crossed her arms to hide how anxious she was suddenly feeling.   
  
"That's too bad," he said with artificial wistfullness. "Because its quite clear that you've been lonely as of late..."  
  
Bulma began backing out of the room. "Me? Lonely? How'd you guess?"  
  
Vejita stretched and got up slowly, enjoying having the upper hand in the conversation. "What a coincidence! I've been lonely since...well, about the time I when I was nine years old and my father handed me over to Frieza."  
  
"How unfortunate," Bulma sympathsized hastily, already most of the way to the door. "Suddenly dessert doesn't sound so good."  
  
Vejita waited until she had scurried out of the room before bursting into wicked laughter.  
  
  
  
  
Bulma's room was just as she had left it. Her collection of black dresses were neatly (for once) spread out on her bed and her dwindling supply of that wonderful white powder was gathered together in a bag on her dresser. Talking to her mother and realizing how obvious her bad habits had become had given her a bit of inspiration. She supposed that she didn't need QUITE so many of those dresses, and the drugs were beginning to take a toll on her body and mind. Looking at the messy array of discarded club tickets in her wastebasket, though, Bulma felt a touch of nostalgia. Even though her lifestyle was screwing up her life in almost all aspects, she would miss it. How else could she relieve her tension but by dancing and drugs?   
  
She couldn't help but think of how pathetic that sounded. She was Bulma Briefs, the strong, witty girl who never let anything get her down! At least, that was who she had been. Who was she now? She pointedly ignored her mirror, knowing how that option always led to depression. Instead, she changed into some pajamas and set about discarding some of the dresses. It pained her every time she balled one up and tossed it; the dresses had been such a comfort to her. The Bulma who wore those dresses was the Bulma that Yamcha had fallen in love with--wasn't that what she wanted? For Yamcha to fall in love with her again?  
  
"No," she reminded herself. "I do NOT want that. I am moving on." Somehow, those words had sounded a lot more convincing when her mother had spoken them. The coke on her dresser was beginning to become like a beacon. "Fuck that--what's one last time?"  
  
Just as she had her hands on the bag, her phone rang, its shrill, intermitent blasts breaking the dangerous train of thought. Bulma seized the bag and tossed it into the garbage, covering it with another dress. Sighing, she made a grab at the phone.  
  
"Hello?" She hoped that she didn't scare away whoever was on the other line with her irritated voice.  
  
"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" Goku sounded a bit surprised to hear her answer. "Bulma?"  
  
"I'm here--what is it?"  
  
"I was wondering if Vejita could spar tomorrow..."  
  
Bulma rolled her eyes at Goku's mistake. "Goku, this is my private line, remember? The one that's in my room? If you want to reach His Majesty you'll have to use the main line."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Goku said, laughing at himself. "I knew that! Well, as long as I'm already talking to you...how's it going?"  
  
"Is there a point to this conversation?"  
  
"Sorry! I also want to know if its okay if I drop by tomorrow. You know, to like, have lunch or something." Goku's voice was childishly hopeful.  
  
"Oh, Goku," Bulma said. Her old friend was hard to turn down. "That'll be fine. I'm sure Vejita would love to get an excuse to beat you up."  
  
"Then I'll see you tomorrow!" Goku exclaimed. "See ya!"  
  
Bulma shook her head as he hung up. He even managed to make his dial tone sound excited. She wondered how he could be so happy at the prospect of seeing someone who hated him more than anyone else in the universe. "The day he gets even an iota stronger than you is the day you die, Goku," she muttered, gathering the few dresses she just couldn't part with and shoving them into the back of her closet. "Everyone else can see how mean Vejita is, why can't you?" Mentally exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed and busied herself staring at her high ceiling. Her thoughts were rudely interuppted by music with a pounding bass coming from Vejita's room. She silently cursed her mom for setting him up right next to her room. She reluctantly made her way into the hallway and banged on Vejita's door.  
  
"Do you MIND?!" she shouted, placing her hands on her hips. "Some of us actually require SLEEP!"  
  
The volume on the music went up, if that was even possible, much to Bulma's anger. Getting sick of waiting for Vejita to respond, she turned the doorknob and stormed into the room. Vejita was watching a rerun of the day's football game and listening to the music at the same time. How he could do both at once was beyond Bulma. He looked up lazily and then went back to his game before commenting.  
  
"Nice outfit."  
  
Bulma looked down at her little boxers and tank top and rolled her eyes. "Turn down that racket!"  
  
Vejita pretended to contemplate this. "Ahh--no." He flipped channels half-heartedly and changed the track on the CD. When Bulma didn't go away, he glanced up again. "Well?"  
  
"I'm not leaving until you turn that down and let me get some sleep."   
  
"Then find yourself a seat because its not happening," he replied. "Fuck off."  
  
"Goku called me," she said impatiently. "He's coming over for lunch and to spar with your royal ass."  
  
Vejita scowled. "I have to visit with Kakkarott AGAIN? Whose brilliant idea was that?"  
  
Bulma narrowed her eyes and stomped to his door. "I hope he kills you," she said, and slammed the door closed behind her.  
  
  
  
  
Vejita slung his towel over his shoulders as he descended the stairs early the next morning. Musty light from the golden sunrise filtered through the sunlights of the Briefs mansion, reminding him much of the palace back on Vejitasei. Except instead of cheery white furnishings, the palace had been covered from floor to ceiling with blood red and black banisters and tapestries--the colors of the House of Vejita. The prince shook his head, trying to clear the painful thoughts from his mind. The Briefs home was nothing like the palace, Earth was nothing like Vejitasei, and this family was not Saiyan, no matter how much their daughter's attitude went against that.  
  
He had gotten halfway down the stairs when Mrs. and Dr. Briefs scurried across the hall and began coming upstairs, too engaged in conversation to notice him. Looking around frantically, he made a quick decision and jumped over the railing of the staircase, hovering just under their field of view.  
  
"She'll be fine here," Dr. Briefs was reassuring his wife, who was wringing her hands nervously. "Vejita will be here if anything happens. Kami knows we can't find anything stronger to protect her."  
  
Mrs. Briefs stopped just in front of Vejita, turning big eyes to her husband. "What if Bulma was right all along? What if he really HASN'T changed? Goodness, I remember what he was like when he was first here, and I certainly don't want to entrust our only daughter with a man like that. She could be ravaged or worse."  
  
Vejita smirked. It certainly was a possibility he planned to keep open. Perhaps Mrs. Briefs wasn't as thick as she came across as.  
  
"Bulma has been handling herself around all sorts of people for her entire life," Dr. Briefs argued. "Besides, Vejita needs her to keep his gravity machine in working order, and to prepare food."  
  
"Oh, honey, why now? Why do we have to leave at this time of transition?!" Mrs. Briefs wailed overdramatically, making her way up the stairs once again. "I LOATHE having to tell her--can't you do it?"  
  
The man put an arm around his wife and kissed her forehead. "Of course I will, dear. Lets hurry up, we have a plane to catch."  
  
Vejita let himself float down to the ground, thinking about this new turn of events. Her parents were obviously going to be gone awhile, or else Mrs. Briefs wouldn't be getting so worked up. They had spent days away from the house before. This must be some kind of vacation, he guessed, walking quietly to the gravity room. He didn't know whether to feel grateful or angry that Mrs. Briefs was finally seeing the real him. He smirked, thinking of the look on Bulma's face when her parents broke the news to her.  
  
  
  
  
Bulma sat on her front step, her knees pulled up to her chest, her hair carelessy unstyled, and a particularily vulnerable look on her young face. The corner of her mouth twitched a bit as her parents lifted their hands in a good-bye wave and pulled out of the driveway, leaving her utterly alone with Vejita, the arrogant asshole who wanted nothing more than to kill her best friend in the whole world and to make her life a living hell.  
  
Vejita, who had been ordered to help her parents carry out their luggage, stood in the middle of the driveway, the late fall wind blowing his trademark towel around his bare chest. To any other woman it would have been a sight worthy of a serious orgasim but to Bulma it was a sinister sight. It wasn't that she hadn't dealt with him before, it was more the fact that she had never been completely alone with him for two whole weeks without her parents in immediate reach. Thinking back to their almost-kiss the night of her mother's party and the several other close encounters they had shared, she wasn't entirely sure that she trusted the dark Saiyan.  
  
He turned around and began walking back towards the house, looking right through her. Bulma thought of the previous night, when he had said that he had been lonely for so long. She wondered if it had just been a lie, something he had said to trick her into fooling around with him. Kami knew that SHE hadn't been lying. She was discovering that loneliness was an emotion she would have to learn to live with. Vejita stopped when he was a few feet from her and narrowed his eyes, studying her face intently.  
  
"You have never been this upset about your parents leaving before," he observed, his tone of voice clearly intended to mock her. "What's different about this time?"  
  
Bulma summoned up the courage to lift her chin a bit and look up at him. She realized that tears were ready to spill over her lashes. "They don't trust you, and neither do I."  
  
Vejita's expression was suddenly angry. "Don't trust me?" He considered this for a moment, looking more and more pissed as he thought. "Perhaps you are wiser than I have been giving you credit for. Get up!" He said this savagely, and urgently motioned for her to stand. When she just stared at him with surprise, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?! I've been suffering for the past four years! I have had to restrain not only my anger, but my strength and emotion also!"  
  
Bulma did not try to wrest herself free, but instead her body went stiff and unresponsive. "You told my parents that I would be safe with you!" she protested desperately, her eyes enormously wide.   
  
"I lied," he said through gritted teeth, and pulled her to her feet. "Lonely, eh? I'm about to give you a little taste of what it feels like to be truly alone." With a sadistic, almost insane, smile, he formed tiny ki balls on his fingertips and held them in front of her pale face, watching her as she regarded them with fear.   
  
"What set YOU off?" Bulma demanded, trying to keep her face as far away from the glowing orbs as possible. "Vejita, what IS this?"  
  
"This," he started, closing his hand around the ki balls and watching as they snuffed out like tiny flames. His hand went to her throat and tightened threateningly, causing small bruises where his fingertips pressed. "is what happens when a Saiyan gets sick of all the bullshit that's been holding him back for so fucking long."  
  
Just as he finished his sentence, Bulma caught sight of Goku, hesitating about a hundred feet away, apparently planning an attack. She met his eyes briefly and then turned back to Vejita, knowing very well that there was no way that Goku could sneak up on the other Saiyan without being detected and most likely killed. She desperately racked her brain, trying to think of a way to distract the rampant prince. When an idea came to her, she began taking deep breaths, forcing herself to become calm and not get both herself and Goku killed. At that moment, she was extremely grateful that Goku had offered to come to lunch this day.  
  
"And this," she breathed. "is what happens when a girl gets sick of empty threats." With speed that surprised even Vejita, she pressed herself to him and busied him with a perfect, if not staged, kiss that would have made even the best actress proud, even though most of it wasn't quite as fake as Bulma would have liked to admit.  
  
Goku used the quick opprotunity to come up behind the unsuspecting Vejita. Bulma made quick eye contact with her friend as he brought his fists down on the sides Vejita's head. Before falling into unconsciousness, the prince's hand lashed out and delivered a crushing blow to Goku's groin, causing him to double over in agony. Bulma stepped back from Vejita's collapsing body and smiled at her dependable friend, her bright eyes full of melancholy.  
  
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(A/N): What will happen when Vejita wakes up? Why, exactly, did he blow up at Bulma? What does Goku make of this mess? OmG, where's the next chapter?! LoL! There, I've said it all for you. This chapter isn't nearly as long as I had planned it to be, but hey, that's life. And yes, I'm still making good on my vow not to touch my other fic until this one is completed. The time is not far off... Thanks everyone for the reviews....cough cough....j/k j/k.... Please remember to at least comment on SOMETHING--it doesn't have to be a compliment, you know. I'm a tough girl, I can take flames. I suppose a bad review is better than none at all.  
  
REVIEW!!!!  
  
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	8. Chapter Eight

Warning: Reason for very strong and violent jealousy ahead!  
  
  
  
  
  
...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Bulma moaned as she followed Goku, who carried the unconscious Vejita, back into the house. "He is going to KILL you when he wakes up. He's gonna freaking kill ME when he wakes up!"  
  
"IF he wakes up," Goku said, scratching the back of his head. "That was a pretty direct blow to the head, he'll be out for a while, Super Saiyan or not."  
  
"Thank Kami." Bulma gathered her hair at the back of her neck, then released it again. She was so tense that tiny worry lines had begun to form between her brows. "Goku...thank you so much. I'm so glad that you showed up."  
  
"What was that all about?" Goku asked gently, sitting her down on the living room couch. He had deposited Vejita on Dr. Briefs' leather chair, and glanced at him now, appearing uncertain. "I don't think I've ever seen him explode on you before. I thought that I was the only one to receive THAT honor."  
  
Bulma sighed. "You know as much as I do. All I said was that I didn't trust him, and neither did my parents, but I wasn't completely serious, and I've said the same thing before. He just...snapped."  
  
"Well, that kiss sure calmed him down," Goku said playfully, trying to get the startled girl to smile. He only half-succeeded. After hiding a grin, she threw a cushion at him.  
  
"That was one hell of a smooch, if I do say so myself. And just for the record, Goku, when that kind of thing happens, generally it does not 'calm a guy down'." Bulma settled deeper into the couch, her eyes glazed over. She appeared to be thinking, so Goku said nothing and instead studied Vejita for signs of consciousness. Without distraction, Bulma dug deeper into her thoughts, for once eager to analyze things. "I guess he HAS been acting a little different lately, since..." She stopped midsentence, her face turning pink with embarrassment. "Since I broke up with Yamcha. I came home a mess, to say the least, and I think he might have carried me in here when I passed out in the kitchen."  
  
"Hmm," Goku mumbled thoughtfully.  
  
"A bit out of character, isn't it?"  
  
Goku smiled. "Not as much as you would think. Vejita's a pretty complex guy--I sometimes wonder about him. I've always thought that I could read him better than most. Not that I'm bragging or anything. Its just that I can see what he's thinking sometimes, by the look in his eyes."  
  
Bulma, amused at Goku's foresight, leaned towards him, interested. "Well then, Miss Cleo, tell us what you see for Prince Vejita over there."  
  
"I think that..." Goku stopped as a thought occured to him. "Nevermind. I don't know, maybe I should just keep my mouth shut."  
  
"Whatever you say." Bulma watched Goku with a curious eye. "Sometimes, I wonder about YOU, Goku."  
  
"Oh, you don't have to worry about me, Bulma. I'm perfectly fine!"  
  
Bulma laughed at his misconception. "No, I'm just saying that you're, well, pretty amazing sometimes. One second you're like a little kid, and then all of a sudden you're spewing wisdom about Vejita's personality. You kind of remind me of my mother in that way." She sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I don't think I've ever seen Vejita THAT mad at me, not even when I rigged the gravity machine last year."  
  
"Hmmm..." Goku's face was thoughtful. "I don't think that he was MAD, necessarily...I think he was more frustrated. I think."  
  
Bulma, appearing to not have heard him, watched the slight rise and fall of Vejita's chest as he breathed. "You'd better hope that he's not seriously hurt, because no offense, but you're gonna need his help to defeat whatever's coming. I hope that he isn't seriously pissed at me because I have to live with him for the next two weeks."  
  
"Well," Goku started. "You don't HAVE to."  
  
"What are you getting at? We are NOT gonna bump him off, Goku, I definitely do not want him haunting me for all eternity."  
  
"You could come and stay with me and Chichi and Gohan for a little while. Until he cools off, or your parents get home." Goku's face was hopeful, and it warmed Bulma's heart. "It would be fun!"  
  
"It's a wonderful offer and I would love to accept but..." Bulma thought of his wife's negative feelings towards her and shuddered at the prospect of LIVING with the woman. "I don't think that your wife would be pleased."  
  
"Well, if you feel that way," Goku said easily. Then, remembering his stomach, he jumped to his feet. "Say, Bulma, what do you have to eat around here?"  
  
  
  
  
An hour and about seventeen grilled cheese sandwiches later, Vejita began to stir. Bulma, watching him slowly come into consciousness with dread, gripped Goku's shoulder. Goku was not a picture of certainty either, he sat stiffly in his chair and left the crumbs on his plate untouched. His brown eyes were wary. Both nearly fell out of their seats when the prince sat up suddenly.  
  
Goku, always seeing the better side of people, approached him, ready to console. Bulma hung back, getting a bad feeling about Goku being the first person that Vejita saw upon awakening. Her premonition proved to be correct when Vejita's hand shot out and seized Goku's throat, pulling him down to eye level. The gentler Saiyan's eyes were enormously wide and shocked. Bulma leaped behind Goku, ready at the defensive despite her weakness.  
  
"What the fuck did you think you were doing?!" Vejita demanded, digging his fingers into the throat of his rival. "If you ever catch me off guard like that again, I'll kill you!"  
  
"Come on, Vejita," Goku rasped. "I was just trying to help Bul--"  
  
"Help?" Vejita mocked. "Help is the LAST thing she needs. What she needs is for you to leave me the hell alone! If I didn't enjoy watching you suffer through your pathetic life so much, you would be dead already." His grip tightened considerably, nearly cutting off all of Goku's air supply. His face was beginning to look a bit blue.  
  
"Just shut up!" Bulma exclaimed frantically, her voice shrill and desperate. "I'm sick of you constantly berating my friends when you have no good reason! What have we ever done to you? What has GOKU ever done to you? He can't help what and who he is! Why can't you just--lay off?! You're going to KILL him!" Her eyes shone with tears, and her hair hung over her shoulders, making her seem unconsciously vulnerable, something she was not intending to do.  
  
Vejita watched her with his dark eyes, not bothering to be subtle about it. His hand reluctantly left Goku's throat, much to their collective relief. The flustered Saiyan fell back against Bulma, who wrapped her arms around him protectively, her wet eyes narrowed. "What's your damned problem? You want to take the punishment for yourself?"  
  
"I should be the one you hurt!" Bulma said in a moment of courageousness. "If I hadn't kissed you Goku wouldn't have been able to catch you off guard."  
  
"You owed me that one, woman," Vejita stated bluntly. "I seem to recall a night in your mother's gazebo not too long ago."  
  
"Dammit, Vejita!" Bulma shouted in response, still holding Goku as he recovered his breath raggedly. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?! Can't you just say what's on your mind for once instead of suddenly blowing up on people? Its getting awfully tiring."  
  
"Hmph," Vejita snorted, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I spill my thoughts before you, woman." And, with a sideways glance at Goku, who was breathing somewhat normally now, "And I'll bow down and kiss your feet before I confide anything in Kakkarott."  
  
Bulma and Goku watched with wide eyes as Vejita got up and coolly made his way up the stairs and into his room. They flinched simultaneously as the door slammed, shaking nearly the whole side of the mansion. Goku squirmed out of Bulma's lap and ran a shaky hand over his unruly black hair. Bulma remained on the floor, her eyes dark and angry.  
  
"I...I've gotta go home now," Goku said uncertainly. Bulma couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so shaken up. "I'm--I'm sorry."  
  
Whatever temporary feeling of security Bulma had felt evaporated as the door slowly swung shut behind her friend.  
  
  
  
  
When she ordered a pizza later that night, Bulma purposely left all but her tiny slice on the kitchen counter, wondering if Vejita would eat at all that night. Carrying her paper plate and bottle of beer, which had been a nervous impulse rather than a conscious choice, she walked to her family's media room, where a big screen and the newest vampire movie awaited her. She shrugged off her terry robe and spread it over her favorite leather chair, enjoying the familar sensation of sinking down into the cushions. With a heavy sigh she turned on the movie.  
  
By the second half of the movie, her beer bottle had been drained and tossed carelessly across the room. Tears of dread began to slide down her face as she contemplated the next two weeks of her life. She managed a tiny smile at the realization that she was crying during a vampire movie, of all things.   
  
"What the hell is wrong with me?" she asked herself, turning over in the chair.  
  
"Probably the same thing that's wrong with me." Bulma nearly fell out of her chair as she whirled around to face Vejita, who was leaning, his arms crossed across his bare chest, against the doorway, watching the movie with some interest.   
  
"I don't think that I'm THAT fucked up yet," she retorted, uncomfortable already. "What are you doing here? I was under the impression that you were still pissed off beyond control."  
  
"I am controlling myself," he replied, his eyes still on the movie. A vampire was attacking the heroine of the movie, and heavy metal music played in the backround.   
  
"Oh yes, that's right--nobody's dead yet."   
  
Vejita smirked, turning his heavy gaze onto her. She stiffened as his eyes traveled up and down her slim frame and the smirk grew larger. "Yeah, and you still have your clothes on."  
  
Her mind numb with shock, Bulma spit out the first thing that came to mind. "And how much longer will I be able to keep it that way?" The mischevious light in his black eyes sent a chill down her spine, a chill that warned her that she was in danger (?) once again. Wrapping her robe around her body, she rose from her seat and attempted to slide past Vejita and out of the room, but was stopped by his strong arm around her waist. She stopped in her tracks, not knowing what else to do.  
  
"Not as long you would like to think--I think hell just froze over." And suddenly his mouth was on hers, a cruel reminder of the Saiyan Prince's wild unpredictability.  
  
Bulma's eyes were wide, her lashes fluttering against his face as he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding under her shirt and to the latch on her lacy white bra. She couldn't help but wonder if he had been waiting for her parents to get lost before doing this, and squeezed her eyes shut stubbornly, not wanting him to doubt her confidence for even a second. It was only when he began sliding her robe over her shoulders with an unmistakable intention that she resisted, taking an awkward step away from him. She dropped her blue eyes to the floor and shoved her clammy hands into the pockets of her robe before speaking.  
  
"We can't do this," she said. "You were trying to KILL my best friend not even five hours ago, for Kami's sake!"  
  
"I was so close, too," he complained defensively, his eyes narrowing. "You act as if that has not been my intent since I arrived here."  
  
"Oh, THAT'S comforting!" Bulma exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "I'd rather not sleep with the man who's trying to kill my friends just now, thank you very much. Good night." For the second time that night, she was unsuccessful in her escape. Vejita stepped into her way, his dark face grim.  
  
"My feelings towards your pathetic friends will never change," he snapped, crossing his arms. "Besides, you can't expect me to let you go by without putting up a fight. What kind of pussy would be able to sleep after that?"  
  
Bulma's brows snapped together in irritation. As suddenly as he had kissed her, she returned the favor. And, as his hands returned to her waist, she knew that this time, they weren't going to stop.  
  
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(A/N): Sorry guys, this is NOT going to be a lemon! I know that some of you were looking forward to that. Sorry to let you down folks, it ain't happenin'. How can you expect a virgin to write about something she's never even experienced? Well, with that said, please review! 


	9. Chapter Nine

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
The only person more surprised at not waking up alone than Bulma was Vejita, who had been sure to set his mental alarm clock extra early, as he was not looking forward to facing the 'woman' first thing in the morning. Especially THIS morning. Careful not to wake the girl curled up beside him, he slowly rose up from the small couch in the media room. He smirked as the previous night's events flooded back into his mind. The television blared static. Bulma hadn't even bothered to turn off the movie.  
  
Vejita walked slowly on his way to the kitchen, relieved that he didn't have to face Bulma's nosy mother. Their impromptu vacation was becoming more rewarding with each minute. In his relaxed and somewhat drowsy state, he didn't notice another ki in the kitchen until he was face to face with Goku, who sat at the kitchen counter, twiddling his thumbs patiently. The other Saiyan eyed Vejita's bare chest and sleepy persona suspiciously.   
  
"Whoa," he marveled, his sensitive nostrils flaring. "What have YOU been doing?"  
  
The prince scowled, just noticing the heavy scent of Bulma and...something else that still lingered in the air around him. "What the hell are you doing here, Kakkarott? I would have thought that you were still hiding at your house, cowering in fear."  
  
"Oh, that was last night. I'm fine now," Goku said easily, brushing it off. "What DID happen last night? I hope its not what I'm thinking..."  
  
"And what if it is?" Vejita tuned him out and began searching through the fridge, his Saiyan stomach cramping with hunger. "Where do they keep their damned food around here, anyway?!"  
  
By the time Goku had thought of a reply, Vejita had found a package of bacon and pulled himself away from the fridge. Goku was suprised in spite of himself as he watched Vejita expertly slam a pan on the stove, obviously pissed off at the prospect of having to cook for himself, and turn the fire on full blast, his eyes momentarily lighting up at the resulting burst of flame. He watched him for a few minutes, thinking of how he could phrase his comment in a way that wouldn't result in his getting attacked again. He had a feeling that he was about to be unsuccessful.  
  
"You know, rape is illegal in this country," he said, as if he were relating the weather. Vejita, however, hardly even looked up from his food, much to his relief. "Vejita--did you hear me?"  
  
"Believe me, I did not rape your precious little friend," Vejita snapped. "Are the mental pictures bothering you?"  
  
Goku furrowed his eyebrows, considering this. "A little. Its more that I'm worried about Bulma. I just...I guess I don't really understand why she decided to...uh--yeah, so soon after you, well, attacked her."  
  
"You're jealous, you idiot--admit it."  
  
"I am NOT!" Goku exclaimed incredulously. "I have a wife and a kid, Vejita, remember? I love them more than anything in the entire world. Bulma is my best friend, not my girlfriend."  
  
"How touching," Vejita retorted, taking the frying food from the pan with his bare hands. "Its nice to know that your life is so great. Now, are you going to tell me why you're here or not?"  
  
"Well, at first I came to keep Bulma company. With you always training in your gravity room, it'll probably get pretty lonely around here," Goku explained. Slowly, an impish grin came over his face. "I guess coming was pointless, considering how much 'training' you two have been doing lately."  
  
Vejita finished off his breakfast hurriedly, not even bothering to wash the pan. "Believe me, Kakkarott, nothing interferes with my training. Besides, you shouldn't be talking, your ki hasn't risen in at least two weeks."  
  
"Really?" Goku scratched the back of his head, his cheeks a bit red. "Well, Gohan's been keeping me busy lately. He wants to train with me now."  
  
"Sounds annoying." Vejita stood and started on his way to the gravity room, ignoring Goku as he jumped from his chair and jogged behind him. "You aren't humoring the little shithead, are you?"  
  
"Of course I am! It's my job as his father. Besides, I enjoy spending time with my son."  
  
Vejita snorted and stopped in front of the gravity room, opening the door. "You'd better get lost, Kakkarott, I don't feel like putting up with you today." Goku flinched as the door was slammed in his face and locked, not really surprised at Vejita's behavior.   
  
"Good morning to you also, Vejita," he said to himself. Shaking his head at the latest turn of events, he turned and headed home, his mind reeling.  
  
  
  
  
Bulma, unlike Vejita, was spared the shock of finding herself waking up with somebody else. Sitting up slowly, she stretched her arms and yawned lazily. Realizing that she was flashing nobody in particuluar, she smiled a bit and pulled her robe around her body. The total realization what had happened was lost to her in her sleepy state. Yet, as her mind got sharper, it was swiftly coming upon her.  
  
Falling back into the chair, Bulma let loose a deep sigh, squeezing her pretty blue eyes shut as she thought. Granted, at the moment, having sexual relations with the handsome Saiyan Prince had seemed like an extremely appealing idea, but now, the infamous 'morning after', she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of the impulsive action. Who was to say, after getting what he wanted, that Vejita would choose to remain intimate with her? It seemed like too much to hope for now. Bulma ran her fingers through her tousled hair and hurried out of the media room, the atmosphere of which was addling her brain, apparently.  
  
When she passed by the kitchen, she was certain that Vejita was awake and probably training, as he had left a greasy pan that had most likely contained bacon in the sink. Shaking her head, she continued on her way to her room, craving a warm shower and the sensation of freshly-shampooed hair. She shed her robe in the hallway in front of her room, not really caring about her exposed flesh, considering that no one was present to see her, and hastened to get into her shower.  
  
She exceeded her usual fifteen minutes, and by the time she had forced herself back out into the chilly air, her fingers had begun to wrinkle. Wrapping a towel around her head and body, she set about making herself presentable again, humming under her breath merrily.   
  
Her reflection in her vanity mirror gazed back her steadily, the twinkling blue eyes staring back at her. For the first time in a while, Bulma refrained from her usual cruel self-examination and instead hastened to make up her face and blow out her hair. She finished her casual look with a swipe of lip gloss, a pair of black sweatpants, and a belly-baring tank top that she hadn't worn since high school. Normal once again, Bulma hurried out of her room and down the stairs, eager to fill her empty stomach.  
  
Something outside of the picture windows caught her attention as she bounded down the stairs--something white and glittering in the early morning sun. Bulma rushed to the front door and flung it open, her eyes wide in anticipation of what she instinctively knew she would find there.  
  
The first snow of the season had been a heavy one. It covered everything, covering the ugly, bare autumn earth with a blanket of the stuff. Bulma, having always loved winter, stepped outside, bare feet and all. Standing in the middle of the snow-covered driveway, she threw up her hands and twirled about in place, marveling in the beautiful weather. Tiny snowflakes, remnants of the previous night's storm, swirled down to Earth, coming to rest in her loose hair and on her lashes. Her lips curved into a content smile, and a little giggle floated out into the frozen air.  
  
Vejita, on his way from the gravity room to his beloved weight machine downstairs, just so happened to glance out the window at this private moment of Bulma's, and stopped to observe her odd behavior for a moment. He had known before that she loved winter, but he hadn't realized just how much until now, as he watched her outside in the snow with her inadequate attire and bare feet. Then the fact that perhaps it wasn't the weather that had made her so happy, but something else, occured to him, and he clenched the band of his basketball shorts uncomfortably. Commitment had never seemed so intimidating before.  
  
"Stupid woman," he growled under his breath. "Even Kakkarott wouldn't do that."  
  
Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he tore his eyes away from the girl and stormed off, forcing his mind to focus on his training rather than the only girl who had ever been able to divert his attention away from his training for even a moment.  
  
  
  
  
Somewhere far away from Capsule Corps. and all of the associated high drama, Dr. and Mrs. Briefs resided peacefully at their resort hotel, reveling in their newfound peace. Mrs. Briefs, however, had something nagging at the back of her mind, something that was begging for recognition. She turned to her dozing husband, who stirred himself awake as he felt her eyes on him.  
  
"I do hope that Bulma and Vejita are getting along alright," she said softly, fingering the hem of her khaki capris. "I was so worried about leaving those two alone, the way they've been acting lately."  
  
Dr. Briefs smiled at his wife warmly. "I wouldn't worry if I were you, dear. Vejita may be unpredictable at times, but he would never, well...advance on Bulma, I don't think. He's a rather private person, you know."  
  
Mrs. Briefs, unaware of how ironic her husband's comment was, returned his smile and took his hand, her weary, somewhat arthritic fingers threading through his. "You're always so sensible, honey. With that off my mind, I think I can stop worrying now."  
  
The two seniors settled back into their seats, Dr. Briefs dozing off again, and Mrs. Briefs thumbing absently through her homemaking magazine, both enjoying their momentary relaxation.  
  
  
  
  
Bulma found Vejita furiously working away in the aerobics room later that day, using several bar-bells at once, as the ones selling were nowhere near heavy enough to give the arrogant prince even a light workout. She stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment before making her presence known.  
  
"By now, I would think that you've done enough training to drive Goku down into the ground," she said quietly, crossing her arms and approaching him slowly. He did not stop his exercise as she spoke. "Don't you think?"  
  
"What I think and what is real is nowhere near similar enough to satisfy me," he replied.   
  
"I'd have to agree with you on that, I hate to admit." Bulma selected a weight of her own, a mere five pounds, and lifted it half-heartedly, curling her arm with the weight towards herself. "You're both so disgustingly strong, I don't see how much of a difference its going to make."  
  
"Don't be thick. You know that it makes a hell of a difference, woman."  
  
Bulma's brows snapped together. "So now we're back to our original level of hostility? I would think that you would at least call me by my name, considering the fact that Yamcha has a REAL reason to hate you now."  
  
Vejita tossed his weights into one of the mirrored walls, hardly satisfied with the resulting smashing of glass. Shards of the mirror flew about the room, slicing not only bits of his skin, but Bulma's as well. She flinched, wincing in pain as she regarded her minor cuts. Vejita regretted his loss of control over his anger when she looked back up at him, her sapphire eyes wide. In a hasty effort to make up for this action, he offered a crooked half-smile.  
  
"Hey, BULMA, what's up? Isn't it a fucking BEAUTIFUL day?!"  
  
Bulma laughed in spite of herself. "Nix what I said--kindness doesn't suit you."  
  
"Kakkarott attempted to pay you a visit this morning." Vejita's eyes were serious. "He made an ass of himself, as usual."  
  
"And...you told him?"  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Bulma rolled her eyes and slapped her forehead in exasperation. "Oh Kami, I hope that you broke it to him gently, because by the time I see him again some pretty grisly ideas are going to start forming in his mind."  
  
Vejita smirked. "That sounds amusing. The dumbass thinks I raped you. Apparently he hasn't discovered the fact that you're an evil little slut yet. If only he could discover some of the things I have."  
  
"Ass," Bulma said, throwing her weight into the very same mirror Vejita had thrown his, shattering the remaining pieces. When she looked back at Vejita, a mischevious smile had lit up her face. "Speaking of ass..."  
  
With a snort of amusement, Vejita stood and brushed past Bulma and out of the room, but not without replying with a sarcastic comment first. "Speaking of ass, shove yours back into your pants, woman, I've seen enough to last me a lifetime."  
  
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(A/N): There you go, Stef-Chan, another scene in the aerobics room. I put them there just for you, so that means that you have to update "A Shoulder To Lean On" AND "Miss Ice Princess" (Yay, a high school fic! God knows yours will end up better than mine, you evil little writer!). I WAS gonna put some more physical intimacy into that last scene, but when I tried it, it just didn't flow right. Sorry! Don't expect another update for a few more days, I'm gonna busy around the holidays. I always am! There might be a Christmas scene in the last chapter of this fic, which is only a few chapters away....didn't think I was gonna end it without some more drama, did ya? Well, PLEASE remember to review! Happy Thanksgiving! Ja ne!  
  
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	10. Chapter Ten

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't until the next morning that Goku decided to pay the two another visit. He found them both in the living room; Bulma stretched out on the couch, sleeping, her pretty face bare of makeup, and Vejita half-watching the blaring television, his dark eyes moving over to Bulma intermittently. Goku, remembering how rude Vejita had been the day before, hesitated a moment before entering.  
  
"Gee, Bulma's always sleeping when I come over!" he exclaimed. "What's up with that?"  
  
Vejita rolled his eyes. "Maybe because you always pick sunrise to show up, Kakkarott."  
  
"I was thinking that you would be training already."  
  
"Can't train on an empty stomach. You of all people should know that."  
  
Goku sank into the couch beside Vejita, who slid as far away from him as he could. Goku didn't seem to notice. "So you're waiting for Bulma to get up?"  
  
"No, I'm wasting my time watching boring human television while I could be training. What's it look like, you fool?"  
  
Bulma rolled over onto her stomach and opened her blue eyes wearily. Both men ceased their talking to watch her. She wrapped herself in her blanket and sat up. "Could you two please stop that? I don't understand why you guys just can't get along for once! Its far too early to be even THINKING about arguing."  
  
"Not a morning person, are we?" Vejita retorted, crossing his arms. "I'm hungry, and I can't train until you get me some food."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "I seem to remember finding a used frying pan in the sink yesterday morning. Whose doing was THAT? Your imaginary friend's?"  
  
"You have an imaginary friend?" Goku asked, his eyes wide. "Wow, I think that I have one, too! He keeps on leaving my shoes right in the middle of the hallway! Chichi always yells at ME for that..."  
  
"Is your friend's name Kakkarott?" Vejita snapped, chucking the TV remote across the room to accentuate his point. "Come on, woman, aren't you going to get up? I've been sitting here waiting for at least an hour!"  
  
"I will do no such thing until you ask me decently." Bulma sat back, happy with herself. If Vejita would be nice to her in front of Goku, she could only imagine what else she could blackmail him into doing. "Come on, I can smell those pancakes already..."  
  
"Hey, Bulma, you don't have dark circles under your eyes anymore! You must be getting more sleep," Goku said randomly, squinting at her. "But I thought that when you were having se--"  
  
Vejita cut him off, his expression pained. "I have no desire to deal with your insolence at such an early hour. Could you PLEASE leave?!"  
  
Goku stared at him, shocked, for a moment, then a huge grin lit up his face. It was all Vejita could do to stifle a groan. "Wowee, Vejita--you said please! Since you asked nicely, I'll go, but you can bet your last pancake that I'll be back in time for those leftovers!" Bulma and Vejita were silent until he was safely out of the house, and then Bulma burst out laughing at the disappointed look on Vejita's face.  
  
"What, you don't want him to come visit you?" she prodded. "But, Vejita, I thought that you two were the best of friends!"  
  
"Would you happen to have any more of those automatics handy?" Vejita snarled. "Another opprotunity for target practice is coming up VERY soon."  
  
Bulma stood and stretched, the thin fabric of her baggy t-shirt riding up over her bellybutton. Vejita tried not to stare. With a yawn and one more stretch, she crossed the room into the kitchen, where soft sounds of cabinets opening and closing could be heard. Vejita smirked and turned back to the TV, silently celebrating yet another victory over the strong-willed Bulma Briefs.  
  
  
  
  
As promised, Goku DID show up for the leftovers. While Vejita battled with him in the kitchen, Bulma took the opprotunity to get dressed and grab her purse. Before she headed out the door, she stopped by the kitchen to let the quarreling men know where she was going. She stopped in the doorway to watch them for a moment, her blue eyes dancing at the familiar sight of them stuffing their faces. Her eyes darkened at the thought of what she was going out to do. Fingering her pierced belly-button, she cleared her throat to get their attention.  
  
"I'm going out for an hour or so," she said softly, scuffing the floor with her heel. Vejita, picking up on her anxiousness, narrowed his eyes, stopping his eating frenzy in mid-bite. "See y'all later."  
  
Goku furrowed his eyebrows, eyeing her stomach. "I didn't know that you had your belly-button pierced, Bulma."  
  
"Since last year," she informed him hastily, already half-way out the door. "I haven't really worn a ring in it around...certain people, though. Bye!"  
  
Vejita smirked privately, thinking of how he had discovered this particular quirk in Bulma's personality. Goku noticed and raised his eyebrows as he got an inkling of Vejita's train of thought. Wisely, he did not comment but instead stayed concentrated on his food. Yet, even with this on his mind, Goku could not remain silent for long.  
  
"I learn something new about her every day," he said, shaking his head. "Is there anything major that you want to tell me about why we're at it?"  
  
"Wellll," Vejita started, a look of mock thoughtfulness on his face. Suddenly the fake expression changed back into his usual scowl of displeasure. "No."  
  
"Um...okay. I wonder where she went so suddenly."  
  
Vejita looked out the kitchen window, studying the snow-covered yard with contained wonder. On Vejitasei, the climate had been far too hot to sustain snow of any kind. Hell, they had barely even had rain! He had to reluctantly admit that the winter season of Earth was quite beautiful. He could easily see why a little, sentimental weakling such as Bulma or Goku could learn to like the bitterly cold season. He tore his mind and eyes away from the weather and turned back to Goku. "Nowhere good. She sucks at hiding her foolish emotions."  
  
"I thought that she was doing a pretty good job of it," Goku replied, licking his fingers. "I was thinking that she was going to the mall or something."  
  
"Not likely. A trip to the mall doesn't make her THAT depressed--unless I am forced to come along."  
  
"You jealous?" Goku teased mildly, grinning.   
  
"Of WHAT?"  
  
"Of the fact that something can bother her more than you!" Goku seemed amused at this weak point. "Wow, wherever she went must be pretty special."  
  
"Hmph." Vejita slammed his fork back down on the table and crossed his arms. "Why must you bother me constantly?! What's your attraction to driving me INSANE?!"  
  
Goku looked hurt. "I thought that we were friends."  
  
"Well then, you thought WRONG." Vejita practically jumped out of his chair and stormed from the room, his anger now apparent to Goku. "Leave or stay, it doesn't make a difference--the woman installed locks on the gravity room weeks ago."  
  
With slumped shoulders and a wounded heart, Goku left Capsule Corps., not to return for longer than anybody could have estimated.  
  
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(A/N): The length of this chapter is unusually short, and I apologize, but I cannot possibly fit all that needs to be said in one chapter, so you'll just have to wait! ;-) Okay, here's several comments regarding some of the more...personal reviews that I have recently received:  
  
-Yes, I am a rather cold and sarcastic person, so don't be too surprised if I say something that might rub you the wrong way.  
-Though I've been known to well...'experiment' a bit, I am NOT addicted to anything besides maybe Niquil, and from what I have learned through my friends, my bad habit is not at all uncommon. Insomnia is taking over America, people! I might have been through some bad times as of late, but that does not make me a crackhead, got it?  
-There has been some concern over just how I'm gonna orchestrate the Christmas scene, and trust me, its not gonna be ANYTHING like you all are expecting it to be. This isn't exactly the Brandy Bunch, for those who haven't noticed.  
-If I am updating too slowly for your taste, then please refrain from bitching about it in EVERY SINGLE review. I don't mean those people who say 'please update soon', I mean those people who literally e-mail me or review or whatever and seriously COMPLAIN. I don't NEED your bullshit, okay? Just complain to your imaginary friend or something, okay? I am updating as fast as I can, I have a life too!  
-I'm currently working on a SMALL, SIMPLE website that will outline how I feel at the moment, upcoming stories, and perhaps a spoiler or two here and there. Check it out whenever/if I finish it!   
  
With all of that said, remember to PLEASE REVIEW, and not to take my anger mangement problems TOO seriously!  
  
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	11. Chapter Eleven

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
If Bulma had had any shred of confidence about what she had done to herself, it had disipated by the time the burly, tatoo-covered man had lifted the needle to her face. If she had thought the piercing had been painful then, it had been dwarfed by the pain she had felt when the numbing had begin to wear off. And so here she was, strolling around town, procrastinating. The prospect of facing both Goku AND Vejita was overwhelming.   
  
Bulma covered the symbol of weakness behind a sheet of sleek blue hair, praying that the sparkling glimpses of the diamond wouldn't give her away. Her hopes were dashed as the snowflakes began to float down to Earth heavily, matting the layer of protection down on her face. The tiny diamond stud on the left side of her nose flashed and glittered like a living entity, baring the marks of her soul for all of the people who passed to see.  
  
On her second lap around the salted streets, still coated with remnants of the first snow, she happened to catch a glimpse of a homeless couple huddled together in an alley, desperately seeking to chase away the cold, and she felt a sudden shot of boldness from the knowledge of how well-off she really was. She had every advantage, and, at least for this second, she knew that it was high time for her to start using it.  
  
Her chin lifted, her hands pushed the hair off of her pretty young face, and she bore her burden proudly for the world to see. For this moment she was grateful, for it was her burden to bear. Alone. At this depressing thought her eyes began to fill with hot tears that she had been stifling. She forgot her vanity and let them fall, preparing herself for an onslaught of sobs.  
  
To her surprise, one was not forthcoming, and for that she was grateful. It was comforting that she had held on to one last vestige of strength from the so-called 'old days'. Thinking back to the Prom that changed her life, she allowed the strands of hair to fall into her face again. Except this time, she didn't bother to brush them away.   
  
Her car awaited her on the street in front of the tattoo shop. Bulma hesitated a moment, lifting her eyes to the sky and allowing herself one wistful moment at the sight of the classic winter display, then let it go and climbed into her car, hardly aware of the piercing any longer.  
  
  
  
  
Vejita was, not surprisingly, training when Bulma arrived back at Capsule Corps, and Goku was gone. Bulma wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Not bothering to take off her shoes, she ventured further into the house, her purse hanging limply from her hands. She slumped down into a chair in the dining room and put her face in her hands, fighting to keep a grip on herself.  
  
She had felt the cravings again that morning. They had been like knives relentlessly stabbing her in the ass, driving her up the stairs to her room, forcing her to give up and go into submission. She had nearly given in when she remembered that night Vejita had supposedly carried her into the living room after she had passed out. Embarrassment had reddened her cheeks and she had, for once in her life, felt truly ashamed of her disgusting behavior. In a fit of anger, she had smashed her bathroom mirror with a hairbrush and made her hasty decision.  
  
And, in spite of her efforts, here she was again, just as bad off as she had been earlier. Except now she had something to show for it. It wasn't as if she hadn't occasionally dreamed of getting it done throughout her life; in fact, it had been one of her goals to be acheived before middle-age. To relieve some of her tension, she began braiding her hair in tiny sections, her fingers grappling the strands of hair clumsily.  
  
This was how Vejita found her. He had been on his way to the kitchen for a quick snack when he had felt her weak ki. Her pain was apparent to him as soon as his eyes fell on her slouchy back and trembling fingers that were in the process of snarling her hair. If he hadn't been able to distinguish her mood by all of the other things, the knotting of her hair would have been a dead-giveaway. He ambled slowly into the room and took the seat next to her, squinting to catch a glimpse of her face from behind her veil of hair.  
  
Impatiently, he grabbed her chin and turned her face towards him, and was hardly surprised by what he saw. In her nose twinkled a delicate little nose ring. Many Saiyan women had done this, though the purpose of piercings on Vejitasei had not been for looks, as Bulma's quite obviously been. Besides this new development, she looked terrible.  
  
The hair that he had always thought to be perfectly smooth and frizz-free was snarled and messy around her face and in the back, with a few melting snowflakes still remaining from her walk outside. Her face was pale and emotionless, and salty tears were dried onto her face. She wore a pair of faded designer jeans and stiletto heels, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but her shirt was a flirtaceous halter top clearly designed for the night scene, definitely not for the wintry weather he knew to be existing outside. Her eyes were like two dark pools of sadness in her face. He released her chin and frowned, looking down at his hands.  
  
"What the hell is that?" His obsidian eyes went to her tiny nose.  
  
"A last chance." Her voice was unsteady.  
  
"At what?"  
  
She shrugged, facing away from him again. The hair fell back in her face. "Freedom."  
  
"From WHAT?" Vejita was incredulous, aggravated with her vagueness.  
  
"My old self." She now sounded utterly disgusted with herself. "I'm sick of being controlled by what I shove up my nose, and I'm sick of being so fucking WEAK. I--I want to get away from it...everything."  
  
"Damn," Vejita muttered to himself, at a loss of what to say. He could very well remember feeling the exact same way himself, back with Frieza. He had since learned to channel his pain into his training, but this was something borne out of necessity, and Bulma had no pressing need to hang on to life, as he had. He understood how she was feeling all too well. "You want to get away?"  
  
She nodded, putting her head down onto the table.   
  
"You know just as well as I do that you can't run away." His voice came out harsher than he had intended, but there wasn't much he could to about it now. "No matter where you go, you're always gonna want to snort that white shit, and you're always going to want to jump off a building. It doesn't MATTER where you are."  
  
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes skeptical. "You sound like you know what you're talking about."  
  
He smirked and turned over his wrists, showing her the fading pink scars that slashed across the olive skin. Her fingers traced the long thin lines absently, and her eyes went wide and she looked up at him with new realization.  
  
"The mighty Prince Vejita, a troubled youth?" she quipped, raising an eyebrow. "What a couple we make."  
  
Vejita snorted, shook off her hands, and stood. "Well, YOU'RE the sadisitic one."  
  
Bulma, narrowing her healing eyes, crossed her arms and regarded Vejita seriously. "Uh-huh. The blood on your hands is certainly no match for the blood on mine."  
  
"Don't push your luck, woman," Vejita growled, backing out of the room. "If you continue with much more of this I-know-your-every-thought bullshit I'll be forced to add the blood of one more."  
  
  
  
  
That night, Vejita lie awake in his bed, twisting and turning restlessly, trying to fight off the many things on his tired mind. What he wanted most was sleep, and it irritated him that he could not obtain it. There were several things that were keeping it away, especially. The first being the fact that Bulma's radio was playing 'softly' to her human ears, but to his Saiyan ones it was practically blaring. And second, the image of Bulma's injured expression when he had discovered the diamond in her face. For some reason, he could not seem to drive it out of his mind.  
  
He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he failed to notice Bulma's music switch off and the quiet creak of her door as it opened out into the hallway. He did notice, however, when Bulma appeared in the doorway of his room, still dressed in the clothes she had been wearing earlier--minus the shoes but not, unfortunately, the helpless expression and snarled hair. She crossed the room silently and perched on his bed, avoiding his eyes as he sat up, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
She suddenly smiled an odd smile, her eyes wide and almost crazed. She stripped off the halter top and allowed herself to be encircled in his arms, her entire body shaking with effort. Her lashes fluttered wildly against his skin and and her fingers kneaded his back spastically. The nose ring glimmered brilliantly in the quiet darkness.   
  
As they leaned down onto the bed, her shaking stopped, and her eyes focused. Her arms wrapped around him desperately, for she seeked security, of all things. Understanding this need, he stopped all advances and held her as she sobbed. For what, he was not certain, but the sensation of her warm tears on his chest was compelling enough. Perhaps she cried for Yamcha, or even for that night at Prom, so long ago, when her entire universe had changed. But, as he could very well relate to, most likely she cried for the strange, unfamiliar person she had become. It reminded him of the first time he had purged a planet, and how he had felt afterwards.  
  
Most likely they were all products of their own wild outbursts and shortcomings, he supposed. Regardless of her tears, Bulma refused to stop her ministrations completely--she had wriggled out of her impossibly tight pants by the time she caved in completely.   
  
She remained in this rather upsetting state until the rosy dawn was on the verge of emerging above the snow. He held her throughout, his dark and unseeing eyes looking into a time years earlier, into the time he had fully realized the disgusting person he had become.  
  
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(A/N): ...whoa. I don't know where this entire CHAPTER came from, but...okay. I'm telling you all right now, there are only about two chapters left to this fic, and, as you could have probably guessed, there will be a sequel, and I have most of that planned out also. I'll finish "Youth of the Nation" first though. I'm in the process of finishing off my webpage, so check on it every now and then. Oh yes, and please go buy Christina Aguilera's CD, "Stripped'. I cried during the two songs "Voice Within" and "I'm OK". They pertain to my life QUITE nicely. Say good-bye to the Pop Princess, people! Anyhow please remember to review on this rather...unexpected...chapter. I'll be off getting my head checked.  
  
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	12. Chapter Twelve

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
  
Bulma, not surprisingly, woke up alone the next morning. Gathering up her discarded clothing, she walked slowly back to her own room, where a shower and a fresh change of clothes awaited her. The sight of the nose ring in the mirror still surprised her a bit, but she supposed it would be something she would have to grow accustomed to. After all, Christina Aguilera certainly wore HERS with pride! After stepping out of her shower, she dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs, eager to fill her growling stomach.  
  
She was searching through the nearly empty refridgerator when the phone rang. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she picked up the portable and put it to her ear reluctantly.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You don't sound very happy to speak to your mother!"  
  
Bulma stifled a groan. Her mother, as usual, had impeccable timing. "Hey, Mom. How's it going...wherever you are?"  
  
"Oh, we're in Hawaii, honey. Did I forget to tell you?" Her mother giggled. "Sorry! I am calling from the airport, and guess what?"  
  
Vejita walked into the room and froze at the horrified expression on Bulma's face. She motioned for him to be silent and sighed heavily.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We're coming home EARLY!"  
  
The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Vejita, interested now, watched it as it spun on the kitchen floor. Bulma hurriedly picked it back up, her hands shaking.  
  
"You're coming home early? How--nice! Is everything going alright?"  
  
Vejita, guessing the way the conversation was going, rushed to the other phone and picked it up, eavesdropping like a pro. Bulma had no time to be suspicious of just how he had gotten so experienced.  
  
"Oh, wonderful! Your father has had all the relaxation he needs, and I was feeling a bit...well, uncertain about you being back at home, you know--all alone with our very own Saiyan Prince." Mrs. Briefs sighed. "How are...things?"  
  
Bulma glanced over at Vejita, who could hardly contain his amusement. She frowned and leaned on the counter, wringing her hands. "Um, they're fine. Just great. In fact, he's hardly out of that damned gravity machine except to eat. You know him, haha--always training." Vejita's smirk was growing larger, and Bulma prayed that he could control himself, for her sake. "We hardly even see each other, let alone get time to talk or...anything." Vejita was quite obviously suppressing laughter, and Bulma found herself having an equally difficult time.   
  
"That's nice. I was SO worried about you two!" Bulma could hear her father speaking to her mother urgently in the backround. "Well, dear, I have to run! We have a plane to catch! Expect us home sometime tomorrow afternoon, as we plan to make a few stops. Ta-ta!" The dial tone had never sounded so good before.  
  
Vejita hung up his extension and chuckled. "Your mother is smarter than I have been giving her credit for. I wouldn't be surprised if I started finding condoms in my room or wrapped up in little pink ribbons beside my dinner plate."  
  
"Shut up!" Bulma put a hand to her nose nervously. "Kami, what will she SAY?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Everything!" Bulma exclaimed. "This is horrible. Leave it to my parents to have such bad timing."  
  
"I knew that they would eventually cave in," Vejita said smugly. "That stupid human holiday--what's it called? Christmas or whatever, is coming up."  
  
"Three weeks and counting," Bulma muttered. "What an interesting year this is going to be."  
  
  
  
  
Bulma had no idea how ironic that comment had been until later that day, when she realized that she hadn't had a period since a month and half ago. At first she had written it off to her lingering adolescence, but as her mind mulled over the possibilites, she began thinking of the several occasions that had been unknowing opprotunites for pregnancy. The idea was so foreign to her mostly immature mind that it didn't fully hit her until she was digging through her mother's medicine cabinet, desperately searching for the slim white instrument that was notorious for making--or breaking--a girl's life.  
  
Upon its discovery, she savagely attacked the plastic casing the tester was in, her fingers shaking in anticipation. Clutching the box to her chest, she rushed into the bathroom. Her frustrated shouts could be heard downstairs in the living room, and even over the television. Vejita furrowed his eyebrows.  
  
"Damn!" A bang was heard as the pregnancy tester was thrown against the wall.   
  
Silence for a few moments.  
  
"Shit!" Bang.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Fuck!" Bang.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Of all the fucking retarded things that could happen!" The following clatter was enough to make Vejita wince in pain.   
  
"What the hell is going on up there, woman?!" he demanded, muting the television.  
  
A tight, fake laugh followed. "My hair won't curl this morning, that's all! Damned curling iron..."  
  
Not fully convinced, but at the same time reluctant to inquire on Bulma's sudden mood swings, Vejita turned the sound back on and forced himself to concentrate on the television, though worry clouded his mind.  
  
  
  
  
Though her parents had returned, they were so busy that it was as if they were still in Hawaii. It wasn't unusual--as the president of a such a large company, Dr. Briefs and his wife were expected at an endless stream of corporate parties and dinners. Under any other circumstances, Bulma would have gone with them, but not this year. Mrs. Briefs had raised an eyebrow, but otherwise had not commented.  
  
Ever since Bulma had gone to Vejita's room so unexpectedly, it had become a routine. Often the Saiyan Prince would return to his room after a long afternoon of training to find her already asleep. Rather than protest, he allowed this routine to go on, as he found her presence soothing to his often strained nerves. He was a bit reluctant to ponder why, though the answer was already forming deep in his mind.  
  
The upcoming holiday was having a pleasant effect on Bulma, who felt like she was about to fall apart beneath her cheery exterior. She spent several days decorating the compound and making plans for a party on Christmas Eve. Though Vejita was not looking forward to spending time with her friends and many of her father's coworkers and their families, he indulged her by limiting his snide comments on the subject. A little. The idea of her in the outfit she had purchased for the occasion affected this decision somewhat, also.  
  
It had been a mutual agreement between the two that they would not get each other gifts. Bulma had suggested this with an odd light in her eye that led Vejita to believe that there was something that the girl was not telling him. The knowledge troubled him, and he spent hours on end in the gravity room, battling off the uneasy feelings he was experiencing.  
  
Bulma, however, was feeling the uneasiness on a somewhat grander scale, for obvious reasons. She used the Christmas planning to get the baby off of her mind, though it was always in the back of her mind, and it was not an easy thing to forget. She could only hope that Vejita would not sense its presence before her chosen time. She was extremely grateful that her mother was kept occupied, for she knew that she would begin to have suspicions. So she kept her secret close to her young heart, keeping it safe like the dark secret that it was.   
  
She had no idea what a Saiyan pregnancy would be like, except for how Chichi had mentioned that it was months shorter than a human one, though much more painful. The girl could only pray that she would not being to show anytime soon. Kami knew that she had been getting moodier with each passing day.  
  
  
  
  
Vejita found the girl alone in her room late that night. He had returned to his room after a particularly brutal training session and been a bit put off when he had found it empty. He was careful to be quiet as he crept down the hallway to her door, which was cracked open a bit, casting a thin sliver of light into the hall, for he could make out her soft voice and perhaps a radio in the backround.  
  
He stopped in the doorway, stunned at what he saw. Bulma sat on her floor, dressed in a short nighty that she was tugging at with nervous hands. Her hair was down and falling around her shoulders, and her eyes were squeezed shut in pain. She rocked back and forth slowly, her small, thin body shaking. Vejita had seen many pathetic displays of agony in his life, but he was unprepared for this one. Bulma had always seemed a bit vulnerable, but hearing her thin, cracking voice was almost too much. Her radio played quietly in the backround, clearly forgotten. He gripped the doorway and listened.  
  
She was singing to herself as she trembled and rocked. "Young g-girl don't cry...be ri-ight here when your w-world star-ts to f-a-all..."   
  
He wasn't sure whether he wanted to cave a wall in or run away. Both would have been inappropriate, but they were the only reactions he knew. While he hadn't a clue as to what was causing it, he was positive that she was in great physical, if not mental, pain. He could almost feel it within himself. But her eerie behavior and choice of words were what he would never forget. No matter how much he might have wanted to, Prince Vejita couldn't bring himself to run away, and he most certainly could not cave a wall in, for then her parents would hear. He crossed his arms and forced himself to stay put.  
  
"What ails you, woman?"  
  
Bulma ceased her rocking and singing, but other then that, she did not respond. Her eyes were glittering with tears. Vejita shook his head in frustration and entered her room. He walked past her and turned off the radio, settling on her lacy bed and taking a good look around while she found her voice.  
  
He had been living with her for quite a while, but he had rarely been in her room. The walls were a soft shade of blue, as was her carpet and the sheets of her bed. Pictures of she and Goku on their infamous dragonball hunt hung on the walls, and a computer hummed in a corner. The only picture of Yamcha was the one her mother had taken of them the night of her Prom. She had hung it above the computer, where he imaged she would see it often. The doors of her walk-in closet were wide open, revealing an immense collection of expensive clothing and shoes. Her vanity was covered in containers of makeup and various applicators. Pictures of herself at all stages of her life were stuck in the mirror. It was obvious that she was a girl who loved all of the luxuries in life. The only thing that gave away the darker side of her personality was the wastebasket, which overflowed with strappy black dresses and a few bags of some suspicious white powder.  
  
"Nothing." Her voice was hoarse, like she had been crying, or singing, for a long time. "Please leave."  
  
"Is it your time of the month or something?" Vejita stood and began backing out of her room slowly, narrowing his eyes in puzzlement.   
  
Bulma's eyes were empty and her expression strained. She stared blindly ahead at nothing in particular. "Oh Kami, how I wish that were so. LEAVE!"  
  
Rather than feeling insulted over her harsh command, Vejita felt angry. But not at her. Never at her. Her pain was apparent to him, and he could hardly blame her for what she had said. It should have been obvious to him immediately that she hardly knew what she was saying. The image of her trying to rock and sing away her pain would be one that would haunt his dreams long into the night. No, he wasn't angry with her. He was angry in general. He was angry that he couldn't figure her out, not even when all of the clues had been laid out before him. There was most definitely something that she was not telling him, and the fact that he could not figure it out was making him angry.  
  
He slammed the door of his room and made for his balcony. He ignored the bitter cold air and the snow that had piled on the balcony railing and floor and still blew quietly around him. He brushed away a small area on the rail and leaned against it, his expression dark and thoughtful. Christmas was coming up in a few days, shouldn't that be making Bulma happy? Kami knew she had been looking forward to it for weeks. All of the annoying clutter she had strewn about the house had proved that. He suddenly remembered the incident earlier that week, when he had overheard Bulma's angry shouts. And then he remembered her mother and father's shocked reactions to her newest piercing, which she was beginning to wear with pride. He had to admit that he was coming to like it. He smirked at the thought. The woman was becoming nearly as eccentric as he was. What a contest THAT would be. He called up a ball of ki and tossed it up and down restlessly. The hard side of him started taking over, and instead of following his thoughts up to conclusion, he shut them abruptly off and went back into his warm room, more than ready for a long, deep sleep.  
  
But sleep would not find the Saiyan Prince that night.  
  
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(A/N): This has been one of the hardest chapters to write so far. I definitely wanted to get the scene with Bulma singing in, because that's gonna have a lot to do with the sequel (Oops! I've gotta keep my mouth shut! Haha!), but then again it was really, really hard to get down. Believe me, I've spent a LONG time on it. Thanks everybody for the nice reviews, I appreciate your comments! And to Stef-chan: honestly, you must take ego-boosting pills or something. Whatever you're on that makes you so talented, please get me some! I'm nearly finished with my website--who knows, by the time you read this, it might be finished! Please go check it out ASAP. It has the rest of the lyrics to the song Bulma was singing (Yep, it was real!), some spoilers on upcoming fics (Like a sequel to this one, plans for "Youth of the Nation", and a couple ideas for my next fic!), and who knows what else I'll decide to stick on there. I'm no web genius, so its gonna be small and uncomplicated, believe me! Now, please keep up the good work and REVIEW!!!!  
  
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	13. Chapter Thirteen

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't until the morning of Christmas Eve that Bulma's mother discovered her daughter's secret. Dr. Briefs was off making last minute party plans, Vejita was training, and Bulma was exercising away downstairs in the aerobics room. Mrs. Briefs, at a loss of what else she could do at the moment, made her way to the aerobics room slowly, dusting and rearranging things here and there, thinking of a good reason for her to be seeking out her daughter. She thought of the horrid nose ring she had recently acquired and shuddered. But scolding her over that again would do no good. She arrived at the room without any ideas.  
  
Bulma was hard at work on the treadmill. She wore a pair of basketball shorts that were obviously not hers, which was some cause for suspicion, and a sports bra. Her hair was hastily tied in a ponytail on top of her head, and headphones were stuck in her ears. Sweat soaked her little body and she was beginning to breathe heavily. Mrs. Briefs crossed her arms and took a seat on a bench, moving aside a towel and a bottle of water. Bulma, engrossed in her workout and music, did not notice her presence, which was perfectly fine for Mrs. Briefs, who took a moment to scrutinize her beautiful daughter.  
  
She had nearly grown up overnight, though a young woman had always been lurking behind those almond-shaped blue eyes. She didn't really resemble either Mrs. Briefs or her husband. Her hair was straight and smooth, while Mrs. Briefs had always had a tendency to curl and frizz. Bulma's blue eyes were large and a bit slanted, while hers were more of a cloudy shade and somewhat smaller. Mrs. Briefs was glad that she had not inherited her looks, because they were not very interesting, to say the least. She also noted that Bulma had gained a bit of weight in the stomach area, but did not give it much thought. She must not have been keeping up her regular exercise schedule in her parents' absence, as she has always tended to do.  
  
The timer on the treadmill beeped as it switched to ten minutes. Mrs. Briefs furrowed her eyebrows as Bulma clumsily jumped off of the machine and pulled the plug, leaning on the supports for balance. She seemed to be struggling to focus her vision and get her balance. And not only that, but normally ten minutes was a lighter workout for Bulma, who had always been concerned about her body condition. She waited until Bulma had taken off her headphones before speaking.  
  
"Its Christmas Eve, dear, you shouldn't be working so hard."  
  
Bulma started and regarded her mother with wide eyes that gradually narrowed. "Kami, Mom, Vejita does that to me enough without your help! I think my heart actually stopped for a moment there..."  
  
"Was I really that sneaky?" Mrs. Briefs giggled with pleasure, then sombered up again. "Ten minutes today? Thats hardly as long as you usually run for."  
  
"I'm just tired today," Bulma replied, snatching up her towel and wiping her forehead. "Why were you spying on me anyway?"  
  
"Whose shorts?" Mrs. Briefs' face was serious, and her arms were crossed.   
  
"These?" Bulma looked down at them, and her cheeks colored a bit before she looked away. "Who's do you think? And why do YOU care all of a sudden?"  
  
"I've always cared!" Her mother insisted, standing and narrowing her eyes also. "I may like that young man a bit, but that does not mean that I approve of the type of relationship he is offering you. No mother likes to see her daughter in that sort of situation."  
  
Bulma tossed her towel aside and threw up her hands. "WHAT sort of situation, Mom?! What do you think you know?"  
  
"A lot more than you've been willing to tell me, honey," Mrs. Briefs said, more gently this time. "I'm no idiot. Don't lie to me and say that things haven't been a little...well, HOTTER between you two lately. I see those looks you two shoot each other here and there, when you don't think I'm looking. I'm a mother, dear, I can sense these things."  
  
Bulma nearly sighed in relief. For a minute there, she had actually believed that her mother knew what was REALLY wrong with her. "Oh, Mom. Its no secret, believe me. Goku could have told you." She retrieved her towel and made a move to leave.   
  
"Stop right there, Bulma Briefs."  
  
Bulma stopped in her tracks and turned around slowly, her eyes on the floor. "Yes?"  
  
"You're going to sit down and tell me what's REALLY wrong. Right now." Mrs. Briefs was as serious as Bulma had ever seen her. Her lips were tight with anger, but the worry was clear in her eyes.  
  
"Are you sure that you want to know?" Bulma asked, sitting down on a bench and folding her hands in her lap.   
  
"Oh, Kami. What am I getting myself into this time?" Mrs. Briefs muttered, taking a seat beside her daughter. "Alright, out with it."  
  
  
  
  
Bulma hurried out of the room about six minutes later, her eyes hard and angry. Mrs. Briefs remained in the aerobics room, silent and shocked. Her eyes were as large as they had ever been, her shoulders were slumped, and her jaw had dropped. For once, the Christmas decorations adorning the room around her did not bring joy to her heart. All she could think of was what Bulma was in for, how her young life was about to be altered forever. Though she didn't want to admit it, she knew that there was no way that Bulma was ready to be a mother, no matter how hard she would undoubtedly try. And Vejita--would he even care?  
  
Mrs. Briefs put her head in her hands and began to cry.  
  
  
  
  
Yamcha donned his new suit and turned to his mirror, grinning at his handsome reflection. Today was Christmas Eve, one of his favorite days of the year, and damn it all, he was going to make this night great! He gave himself a thumbs up and turned to Krillen, who was over to catch a ride to Bulma's for the party.   
  
"How do I look?" he asked, smoothing his outfit and striking a manly pose. "Do I look like a MVP or what?"  
  
"You're putting a lot of effort into this," Krillen said uncertainly. "What are you planning, man?"  
  
Yamcha sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets nervously. "I'm not sure myself, Krillen. I've been thinking about Bulma a lot lately."  
  
"Oh Kami, here we go," Krillen grumbled, falling back onto Yamcha's couch and eyeing the still shattered window. "I'm sure she thinks about you, too. You know, when she visits those virtual voodoo websites."  
  
Yamcha laughed. "Yeah, probably. I guess our last couple meetings have been pretty hostile. But I can't get her off of my mind, ever since that day at Goku's. She looked great--healthier than I've seen her in a long time. And I was the one who broke it off, so chance's are she still has some lingering feelings for me."  
  
Krillen raised an eyebrow. "Was it just me, or did it seem like she and Vejita were getting along a little TOO well?"  
  
Yamcha's face fell, and his eyes darkened. "It wasn't just you. Remember that party over at her house? You weren't dreaming, man, that was real. And it wasn't a one-sided thing, either. So I'm gonna stop it while I can. I think I'm going to ask her out again." At Krillen's look of protest, he held up a hand. "No, I'm serious. I won't even have to deal with Vejita once I have Bulma on my side. Look at this." He pulled a velvet-covered box out of his pocket.  
  
"Holy shit, Yamcha, you're not gonna--"  
  
"No! No man, I'm not gonna propose. Not yet." Yamcha fingered the box thoughtfully. "I'm gonna see how she's recovered. I don't know if I want to deal with Little Miss Drama Queen again. If she's changed, then I'll give her this." He opened the box to reveal a glittering promise ring, simple but pretty in design. "Ain't it just--adorable?" He batted his eyelashes jokingly and joined Krillen in lighthearted laughter.  
  
"I'm still not sure." Krillen frowned. "I thought that you said it was OVER."  
  
"I've missed her...a lot," Yamcha said softly. "She's a great girl, just a little troubled. But with proper care, she'll get over it, I'm positive. I mean, come on--she was well and happy enough to throw a huge party, and that means something, doesn't it?"  
  
Krillen shook his head. "I hope you're right, Yamcha. I'd hate to see any of you get hurt."  
  
Yamcha turned back to the mirror, his expression grim as he looked himself over one last time. "Don't worry, Krillen. Nobody's gonna get hurt tonight."  
  
  
  
  
Meanwhile, back at Capsule Corps., Bulma was desperately searching through her closet for something to wear. She flung dresses over her shoulder as she rejected them, not caring where they landed at the moment. Nothing seemed right for the occasion, and even worse, she feared that her stomach was starting to bulge a bit. Remembering this horrifying discovery after her morning workout, she involuntarily shuddered and began searching even more determinedly, her lips set in a tight, thin line.  
  
She had rejected almost every dress she owned by the time she found the perfect one. She lifted it slowly, admiring the beautiful piece of clothing. A faint smile graced her face, and she backed out of her messy closet into her even messier room. She flung the dress over her shoulder, dug a pair of shoes out of the enormous pile on her bed, untangled some jewelry from the heap that covered her vanity, and hurried into her bathroom, for she only had an hour and a half left before she had to make an appearance.  
  
In the next room over, Vejita was sprawled out on his bed, watching television, if you could call it that. He was changing channels at an almost inhuman rate, his scowl getting deeper and deeper until finally he left it on a rerun of last week's football game. He had no pressing need to watch any of the corny Christmas specials that hogged up all of the good channels. He turned his head away from the television and directed his gaze out his open balcony. A few snowflakes had begun to fall, as was expected on Christmas Eve, and the temperature had dropped dramatically since that morning. Vejita turned away, bored of the winter season already.  
  
He could hear Bulma moving around noisily in her room, getting ready for the ridiculous formal party she had been planning. If he cared he would be getting ready now, too, but, unfortunately, he could care less. He was not a fan of the parties that the Briefs women threw. If Goku said ONE stupid thing, just ONE, he would hang him by the goofy tie that he would probably be wearing. The thought pleased him.   
  
So, ignoring the fact that the party was drawing ever nearer, Vejita relaxed and concentrated on watching his football game.  
  
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(A/N): Sorry about the shorter chapter, but I had to end it there, because I wanted to save an entire chapter for...CHRISTMAS!! Yay, I'm so excited! I can't wait to try my hand at THAT one. I'm guessing that there will only be two chapters left in this fic, the Christmas one and then another one to wrap everything up and set things right for the sequel, which will be posted after "Youth of the Nation" is completed. If you haven't already, please visit my website, which is now posted, and check it out. I have the lyrics of the song Bulma was singing, some tidbits about my existing fics AND some forthcoming ones, and some of the research I've been doing for an upcoming fic that's gonna be one of my best yet. Please check it out and help me with some of the things if you care to. I could always use a hand with research. Don't worry, the subject is interesting! The site isn't very big or complicated, since I'm computer illiterate (LoL), but hey, it doesn't have to be stunning to get the job done! Ja ne, and, as always, REVIEW!!!  
  
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	14. Chapter Fourteen

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
By the time that Vejita made his way downstairs, everyone had arrived, presents had been piled in great heaps beneath the enormous tree, and someone had begun playing loud, pulsating music. Scanning the crowd, he recognized some of the businessmen that came and went with Bulma's father, as well as Bulma's friends and a group of chattering housewives surrounding Mrs. Briefs and Chichi in the kitchen. He felt drawn to the loaded refreshments table, but, having other things on his mind, he passed by it without a second thought.  
  
He had been wandering around, people-watching, for quite some time before he spotted Bulma in the center of the room, shouting to be heard over the music. She was talking to an older man and woman, but he could not make out what they were saying. He stopped his meandering when he got a good look at her outfit.  
  
She must have saved this one black dress after throwing away all of the others, and he could guess why. It was a fabulous garment, and she looked even more fabulous in it. Vejita thought he detected a bit of extra weight around her stomach, but it didn't register. It was black in color, and made of a rich material that clung to all the right places. It was the only dress he'd ever seen her wear, besides her prom dress, that reached the floor. It had a halter-style top with very thin, weak-looking straps and a v-neck that dipped down and then a little to one side. The bottom was assymmetric, with one side reaching down to the floor and trailing behind a bit, and the other going up into a high slit, revealing shimmery skin up past her waistline. Intersecting across this slit were thin straps identical to the ones around her neck. The back was, for the most part, open, stopping at her waist. She wore strappy sandals with straps that wrapped up her calves and looked extremely uncomfortable. She wore a gold arm band and necklace, and diamonds at her ears and in her nose. Her hair was swept up loosely, leaving some trendils to fall out around her face and neck. The outfit was having its intended effect on the men at the party; they stared as they passed. Vejita felt a bit jealous in spite of himself.  
  
He was about to approach her when he felt an unwelcome presence beside him. He glanced over and found himself face-to-face with Yamcha, who reeked of too much cheap cologne. The Saiyan Prince glared at him and prepared to walk away, but was stopped by Yamcha's hand on his arm--a bold move, if there ever was one.  
  
"Get your damned filthy hands off of me," Vejita warned, his voice dangerously low. "Unless you want to lose them, and in that case, I'd be happy to oblige."  
  
Yamcha gestured towards Bulma, who was laughing at a joke someone told her. Her blue eyes were lit up and dancing. "She's beautiful, isn't she? Its a shame that she's going to be off the market soon."  
  
Vejita chuckled, causing Yamcha to stare at him in shock. "Oh really? You have something up your sleeve?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do!" Yamcha exclaimed, flustered. He fumbled in his coat for a moment, then pulled out the promise ring. "See? She'll be blown away by how romantic I am, and she won't be able to refuse. I was the one who broke it off, and I'm certain that she has some lingering feelings."  
  
"That's nice and all," Vejita admitted, crossing his arms and smirking. "But you are misinformed. By all means, please, go talk to her."  
  
Yamcha, at a loss of what else to say, threw up his hands. "Unlike YOU, I know what I'm doing, so I'm going to wait until just the right moment."  
  
"And would the right moment be before or after she smacks you?"  
  
"Yeah, well...I-I don't need this from you!" Yamcha stammered, and hurried away from Vejita, who watched him leave, his smirk fading. So, Bulma's Christmas party would not go by smoothly after all. Shaking his head, Vejita looked at Bulma one last time and stormed over to the refreshments table.  
  
  
  
  
Bulma said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Debussy and flashed them a brilliant smile. They were one of her father's biggest competitors, and much rode on how hostile they decided to be. Bulma figured that every little bit she could do to gain their favor was well worth it. And besides, Mrs. Debussy knew quite a bit about Gucci's upcoming spring line, and she had complimented her on her nose ring. She was glad to know that not all of the older generation was close-minded. The smile remained on her face as she weaved her way out of the center of the crowd, thanking people who commented on her dress, which, of course, was absolutely stunning, and blowing kisses at good friends. When she reached the edge of the crowd, she sighed happily and took a good look around, reveling in all of the Christmas splendor.  
  
The tree was absolutely loaded with decorations and lights, as were the walls and chandeliers and such. Bulma smiled proudly at the dramatic effect the dim lighting and colored lights were having on the room and admired the way the light sparkled off of her diamonds. With a private little laugh she turned on her heel and headed to the refreshments table in search of a drink.   
  
She picked out her drink and carried it over to where she had spotted Goku. He was, not surprisingly, examining the piles of presents beneath the tree. He did not smile at her as she approached, but he did turn curious eyes to her abdomen. She stopped in her tracks and met his troubled eyes with her own.  
  
"Oh, Goku," she breathed, giving him a light hug. She held the embrace and whispered into his ear, her voice wavering. "Please tell me that I'm going to be all right."  
  
Goku felt tears in the corners of his eyes and returned her hug. "I don't have to tell you that, Bulma."  
  
"How did you know?" She pulled away and put a hand to her stomach, shame beginning to show on her face. "Tell me. If Vejita finds out, I don't know what I'll do."  
  
"You haven't told him?" Goku asked incredulously. "Oh man, Bulma, that's asking for it."  
  
Bulma, being careful of her drink, crossed her arms. "I'm going to tell him. I'm just...waiting for the right time. Have a little faith in me, Goku! Now, tell me how you knew."  
  
Goku looked at his feet. "Well, first of all, you are starting to show just a little bit. Only someone who knows you really well would be able to tell, though. And second, I could feel the ki inside of you. Its still weak, but there's no doubt that its there."  
  
"Damn," Bulma muttered. "I was hoping that no one would be able to sense it yet. But if YOU can tell its there, then why hasn't Vejita noticed yet?"  
  
"Selective thinking," Goku suggested. "Chichi tells me that I have it a lot. And maybe also because he really hasn't paid much attention to that kind of thing. From what I can tell, Vejita doesn't put that ability to good use unless he's in battle, or searching for someone. But don't worry, I'm more sensitive to that kind of thing anyway, having gone through it all with Chichi and Gohan." He then smiled mischeviously. "And maybe he's had other things on his mind. By the way, I like your...uh, nose thing."  
  
"Thank you!" Bulma laughed and hugged him again. "Merry Christmas, Son-kun." She left him by the tree, staring longingly at the presents.   
  
  
  
  
Dinner came and went without much trouble, besides a minor incident involving some hostility between Yamcha, who had been strangely quiet the entire evening, and Vejita, who was behaving unusually aggressive, and attacking Yamcha at every opprotunity. Poor Bulma could do nothing but shake her head and pray that nobody else was paying attention. Much to her relief, everyone was much too enraptured with the cheery Christmas Eve atmosphere to dwell on much else. So all thoughts of the incident were pushed out of Bulma's mind, leaving her free to enjoy herself for the remainder of the party.  
  
Content in their slightly druken state of mind, the guests danced and sang the night away until it was time to go home. Bulma, being almost completely exhausted by all of the men she had indulged with a dance that night, was ready to collapse by the time all of the people had left. The only guests who remained were Goku, Chichi, their son Gohan, Yamcha, and Krillen. Her parents hurried around, cleaning up what they could, and Vejita sat sullenly in front of the television, trying to concentrate on the show while Goku chattered away beside him.  
  
Yamcha, always one to show off, decided to spring his offer on Bulma at that moment of peace. She was stretched out, happy to be relaxing, on a couch, with her eyes half-closed, when he approached her. All eyes, including Vejita's, went to him as he knelt down beside the surprised girl.  
  
"What is it?" Bulma asked, almost coldly. "Stand up, for Kami's sake, you're making a scene!"  
  
"That's alright," Yamcha said. "That's how this moment should be. It'll save us the trouble of telling everyone later."  
  
"Tell everyone what?" Bulma sat up, her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I don't appreciate being embarrassed in front of all my friends, Yamcha. If you want to tell me something, then you can tell me when we're alone." Her eyes shifted for a moment to Vejita, who was watching intently. Yamcha noticed and grit his teeth in frustration.  
  
"Listen to me, Bulma," he snapped. "You've changed, that much is obvious to me. You've filled out nicely, and you seem to have recovered from previous...habits...that caused me to break up with you in the first place. I think that if we both gave it a good effort, we could make this--US---work again." His hand went to her face, causing Vejita to stiffen up defensively, and offered a smile. He smiled at the little jewel adorning her perfect nose. "That little diamond stud is actually...quite becoming."  
  
Bulma was too shocked to respond at first. Her mind raced. A little while back, she would have given up everything for what she was being offered now--a second chance. But thinking of her baby, and of all of the things that had been going on, she knew that she couldn't possibly accept, no matter how tempted she felt. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized just how pathetic her situation was. Here she was, on Christmas Eve, pregnant and on the verge of a relationship with the LAST person she would have guessed anything could have happened with, and the supposed 'man of her dreams' that she had been pining over for so long was offering her a chance to escape from it all. She covered her face with her hands and fought to maintain her cool composure. She lost. Her voice was strained and wavering as she spoke, and her eyes overflowed with tears.  
  
"Oh, Kami, Yamcha," she breathed. "You asshole."  
  
Her accusation did not register with Yamcha for a moment. "What--why? Look at what I bought you, B-chan!" He revealed the glittering promise ring, which only caused Bulma to sob even harder. "Tell me what's wrong, baby."  
  
Bulma pushed him aside and got off the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "When you broke up with me, you said it was for forever, and at first, I didn't believe you. A few weeks ago, I would have given ANYTHING for this moment to happen." She threw up her hands, and met Vejita's eye again, and, when he looked away, she felt a second wave of tears coming on. "And even if I still wanted it now, which I DON'T, I couldn't accept."   
  
Yamcha, rather than being angry, was now thoroughly confused. "Well, why the hell not?"  
  
Goku tensed noticeably beside Vejita, who turned to him, enraged. "You know why, you ignorant fool! Tell me!" he insisted quietly.  
  
Goku shook his head and kept his eyes on Bulma and Yamcha, who were engaged in a silent staring contest. "Just let her tell him, Vejita."  
  
"I-I can't tell you," Bulma said softly. "Its none of your business, Yamcha."  
  
"Damn," Vejita growled.  
  
Yamcha nodded slowly, quiet anger in his eyes. "I know what this is about. Its about YOU, and that--that--arrogant, cold-hearted murderer, isn't it?"  
  
"Correct on all counts, for once in your life," Vejita growled, growing sick of Yamcha already. "If its bothering you so much, then why don't you just shut the fuck up and LEAVE?"  
  
"Well," Yamcha huffed, shoving the ring back into his pocket and making for the door. "Maybe I WILL! Come with me, Krillen, unless you wanna WALK home."  
  
With a hasty 'Merry Christmas' to the stunned guests, Krillen followed Yamcha out the door.   
  
Bulma collapsed back onto her couch, staring ahead numbly. "How dare he."   
  
Goku hurried to her side. "Gosh, Bulma, I'm so sorry about that!"  
  
"You have nothing to be sorry about," Bulma said monotonously. "Only Yamcha is to blame."  
  
Goku returned to his place beside Chichi and Gohan, who had thankfully remained silent throughout the entire exchange. But Chichi was not going to hold her sharp tongue for very much longer.  
  
"I've said it once and I'll say it again, Bulma Briefs," she started coldly. "You are disgusting. Poor Yamcha was offering you the best thing that could happen to a pathetic little whore like you. Just look at the fix you're in! You go right from one man to another. I suppose I could accept that, but considering what man you chose, I'm going to make an exception. My husband may want to continue having relations with you, but, for the second and last time, I'm going to take my son and LEAVE. Merry Christmas."  
  
Bulma was unable to withstand any more. With a furious little squeal, she launched herself at Chichi and rained a flurry of slaps on the shocked older woman, who retaliated with just as much rage. Goku and Vejita froze in shock, and Gohan hid behind the couch, little tears falling from his eyes.   
  
"You insufferable, evil little BITCH!" Bulma ranted, grabbing a fistful of hair and ripping at it savagely. "How dare you insult me in my own house! And on Christmas Eve!"  
  
Chichi, who was not nearly as physically fit as Bulma was, struggling from underneath her. "I'll insult whomever I chose to!"  
  
Goku fell into a frenzied state of mind, not seeming to have the mental capacity to choose sides. He picked up Gohan and held him close, watching the fight with wide deer eyes. Vejita, however, planned on stopping the ridiculous affair immediately, though he was rather enjoying the sight of Bulma cat-fighting in her skimpy little black dress. He gently took her by the shoulders and pulled her off of Goku's wife, who hurried to her feet and glared with all her might. He jokingly pulled a loose strand of hair and whispered in her ear.  
  
"Kami, woman, if I had known that you could fight like that I would have provoked her a long time ago."  
  
Bulma shook his hands off and held Chichi's gaze, her blue eyes smoldering with fury. "If you're enjoying it so much, then why don't you let me finish it?!"  
  
"Because you are not yourself, for whatever reason," he said, crossing his arms. "And believe me, I'm going to get it out of you later." He brushed past her and approached Chichi slowly. "Easy, girl..."  
  
"Don't come a step nearer, or I'll cave your face in!" the angry woman screeched. "Goku!"  
  
Vejita smirked and delivered a quick smack to the woman, whose reflexes were not nearly fast enough to allow her to defend herself, or even retaliate. "You might want to THINK before you open your enormous trap next time, you annoying little harpy."  
  
Goku, who was fortunately smart enough to know when it was time to walk away, gathered up his wife and son, and after a swift, friendly kiss to Bulma's cheek and a nod in Vejita's direction, ventured out into the blustery night.   
  
"Why can't I have a party, just ONE party, where everything goes smoothly?" Bulma groaned, taking down her ruined hairdo and leaving her locks to fall around her bare shoulders. She made an unconciously alluring picture for Vejita, who was sick of looking at all of the overdone women who had attended the party that night. Suddenly she went a bit green around the edges. "Oh Kami, what is wrong with me?"  
  
"You tell me," Vejita snapped, on the defensive. "You will tell Kakkarott, but you would rather keep whatever it is to yourself than tell me, wouldn't you?"  
  
Bulma looked over at him with weary, red-rimmed eyes and smiled faintly. "Oh, Vejita, do you really want to know?" She rose from her seat and wandered over to the Christmas tree, which was still glowing with all of its decoration. Her fingers carressed the sharp needles absently. Her eyes were clouded over in thought. "You know, I used to love Christmas."  
  
"And what changed that?" Vejita asked, exasperated. He was growing sick of her procrastinating, and he was harboring a horrible headache.  
  
"Tonight." She laughed and sat beneath the tree, among the piles of discarded wrapping paper and boxes. "But I think that there might be an atonement coming to me."  
  
"When?" Vejita demanded. "I'm getting sick of your mood-swings."  
  
"Well, I can't be too sure as to EXACTLY when, but I'm guessing that I'll have to wait...a few months," Bulma's eyes shone like what she was telling him was somehow significant, but Vejita's biased mind did not catch on so quickly.  
  
"Come out with it already!"   
  
Bulma's face fell, and an unmistakable expression of disappointment darkened her face. When she spoke, her voice was small and injured. "Nevermind. I'm just--blithering on mindlessly. I'm tired, I guess." In attempts to recover, she put on a false smile and posed like a fashion model. "I think that my dress made quite a sensation, though. You know what's pathetic? I was saving this for the night that Yamcha proposed to me, and look what happened."  
  
"I fail to see any humor in that," Vejita said, crossing the room to stand above her. His dark, unreadable eyes burned holes straight into her soul. "You'll tell me soon enough, woman. Merry Christmas." He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but had decided against it. Bulma sighed as he turned and stalked upstairs, leaving her alone in the living room. The tree she sat beneath, the one that had originally given her so much joy, only served as a reminder of all the things that she would never have, starting with a 'Merry Christmas'.  
  
  
  
  
When Bulma picked herself up and made it up to Vejita's room that night, he was fast asleep, snoring lightly. She slowly discarded her jewels, let down the remainder of her hair, and unbound herself from the restrains of her wonderful dress. She allowed herself a long, indulging stare at the beautiful garment before carelessy stuffing it into the garbage, where the rest of her 'little black dresses' now made their home. Her slightly bloated stomach had stretched the fabric--it would never be the same anyway. She kicked her shoes noisily at a wall, in hopes to both get rid of them and perhaps wake her apparently exhausted lover, and was rather unsuccessful in both. She bent down, frustrated, and ripped them off of her feet.   
  
She wasn't at all afraid to slip in beneath the covers, even though the man who was currently occupying the spot beside her might have scared her off in other days. She figured that if she really was going to have this baby--how she dreaded that awful word!--then she might as well be comfortable while she still could. letting out one final deep, discontented sigh, Bulma allowed her mind and body to be claimed by a restless state of sleep--for a little while, at least.  
  
Vejita, who, over the years, had gained much practice at pretending to be both asleep and dead, could hear her every movement, even the long sigh she let out before she settled down beside him. He supposed that he should have felt angry at this, because he knew that it was directed at his stubbornness or whatever it was that had pissed her off today, but instead he felt strangely well, sad. Even the cold, aloof Prince of the Saiyans was not low enough to revel in the pain of 'his woman'. He grimaced at the expression that he knew would be his undoing.   
  
What the hell was he doing, anyway? Prince Vejita would never tie himself down like that! He would never succumb willingly to the good old 'ball and chain', as men on this planet were so fond of calling permanent relationships. But, lo and behold, look at him now! Though he could not picture the almost painfully beautiful Bulma Briefs a doting housewife, destined to make her husband's life dull and uneventful, he could easily see her being the woman that finally did to him what that horrible Chichi woman had done to Goku--make him weak, a victim of his own emotions. Vejita shuddered and turned over.  
  
Bulma had thrown away her dress in obvious disgust--what was it that would cause her to do such a thing? It may have been the dress that she had been hoping to be the one that Yamcha proposed to her in, but he didn't think that even in her most unstable state of mind she would waste a dress like THAT. He smirked, thinking of how bitterly jealous that fool Yamcha must be at that moment, alone in his bed, knowing that he, the 'evil, murderous' Vejita had what he would never have again.  
  
Not completely asleep yet, Bulma felt him shift beside her and wondered if he were feeling as shitty as she was.  
  
  
  
  
On Christmas morning, Mrs. Briefs sat in the living room, staring at the beautiful tree with sorrowful eyes. Nobody came downstairs to look for presents, and she very much doubted that anybody would. Not this year. She wasn't as thickheaded as she seemed, so she could guess at the nature of the bad turn Bulma's party had taken the night before. And she could also guess that Bulma had failed to tell Vejita about his unborn child, as she had planned to do. She was sure that if she had, the house would not be as quiet as it was now.  
  
The elderly woman put her head in her hands and exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping. She willed herself to be strong, not only for herself, but also for her daughter and the half-Saiyan baby growing inside of her. Kami knew that they'd need it. Yes, there was no doubt that the New Year would be an interesting one. With a weary body and tired heart, she stood and took one last look at the Christmas tree before setting about dismantling it, alone on the holiest day of the year.  
  
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(A/N): Wow, that was extremely difficult. Sorry about the slow updating on this chapter! Technically, this is the last one (OmG! Would you BELIEVE it?!), but there WILL be an Epilogue! LOL I'm not THAT evil...and beyond the Epilogue will be a sequel, though you might have to wait until I've completed "Youth of the Nation" first. I'm sorry! Please check out my site, and help me with my research (Its explained on the site...)! And above all, Happy Holidays! Give me an early present and review nicely!  
  
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	15. Epilogue

...........................................................................................LITTLE BLACK DRESS  
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't until a few days later, on New Year's eve, that Bulma finally told Vejita of her pregnancy. Needless to say, it did not go over as smoothly as she had hoped. Vejita was shocked into silence for two days straight, and when he got his voice back, you can be sure that he let EVERYONE know exactly what he thought of the situation. Bulma was less than amused. Eventually, after he had gotten the excess anger out of his system, his outlook on the whole thing became somewhat more...optimistic.  
  
"Ha! Now not only can I defeat Kakkarott, but his pussy of a son as well!" This was said with his trademark smirk, though the black eyes were still somewhat disturbed. But, when his...well...whatever Bulma was to him at the moment, had turned her back and washed her hands of entire affair, he rushed to the bathroom and made his peace with the toilet, where he remained until he had rid himself of the past four days' meals. "Weak humans and their ridiculously contagious, fucking disgusting viruses..."  
  
Of course, this delicious news could not be kept a secret for very much longer, so Bulma and Vejita savored their privacy in its last few moments. When Yamcha found out, there was an unseemly incident involving a dropped baseball bat that kept him in the hospital for a good portion of his ex-girlfriend's pregnancy, which, as predicted, was ten times worse than a human one, though she wouldn't know very much more about a human pregnancy than a Saiyan one to being with. Anyhow, the news came as quite a shock to everybody. Bulma went to the mall, and, as a last stab at grasping what remained of her previously frivolous life, got a tattoo on her lower back just to reward herself for putting up with all of the reactions she had gotten in the initial stages of shock. Vejita, of course, was amused rather than disgusted with Bulma's new method of consolement. As a matter of fact, he returned from the mall one day with a similar, though somewhat larger, tattoo on the left side of his chest, much to Mr. and Mrs. Briefs' chagrin.  
  
And if Bulma had thought that the first few months of her pregnancy were unbearable, then it was miracle that she hadn't shipped herself off to an asylum after the first few weeks of Month Three. There was the usual morning sickness, but instead of restricting itself to morning, it remained with the young girl for hours after morning and well into the afternoon. The only refuge she got was at night, and even that was not exactly peaceful, for the Saiyan Prince was as insatiable as ever, despite her sickly state. He was only controllable after she finally gave in to her frustrations and whacked him over the head with a box of condoms so forcefully that he found himself seeing stars for a few moments. Apparently Goku had been correct when he had advised him not to mess with a woman when she was pregnant. After that, Bulma was safe from his untimely advances.  
  
But not all happenings during this time could be seen as amusing, even in the most remote way. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how far Vejita stretched himself to ease her pain, the couple was forever destined to face an endless stream of adversities.  
  
  
  
  
It was halfway through Month Five when Bulma began to feel her baby kick--hard. She had been sitting out in her mother's garden, basking the warm April afternoon, when the first blow came. At first, it was rather weak kick, as if the baby were testing himself, and Bulma merely brushed it off as the last bits of nausea remaining from that morning, which had been particularily bad. Her tribulations that day were obvious by the look of her--instead of making her look like one of those models in all of the maternity magazines, you know, all rosy-cheeked and womanly and beautiful, her face was pale, and her eyes dull and full of lingering pain. She wore a white, mid-thigh lengthed sundress that her mother had purchased for her--she still hadn't the gall to show her immature face in a maternity store--and her feet were bare. Her hair, which she had left uncut and free to grow nearly to her waist, was left down, save for a few strands around her face. Her nose ring, still the favorite diamond stud, remained in her nose. She would be damned if she gave up her beloved piercing--it was a constant reminder of how wonderful she had had it.   
  
So there she sat, unsuspecting and especially vulnerable as she breathed in the sweet spring air. She was completely alone, for her parents had gone out to brunch and Vejita was hard at work in the gravity room, sparring with Goku, who was a frequent visitor at Capsule Corps., despite his wife's solemn promise not to involve her family with Bulma and Vejita. Apparently Goku's puppy eyes had won her over once again.  
  
The kick came as suddenly as could be expected from a child of Vejita's, and it caught Bulma completely off-guard. The sheer force of it, never mind the pain, knocked her off of her feet. She struggled awkwardly to her knees, gripping her abdomen and doubling over in agony. She did not scream; if someone were to hear her she would have been mortified, but she was powerless to stop tears from flowing over her high cheekbones. With one hand still on her bulging stomach, she pulled herself along by grabbing at lawn chairs and the like. When she had reached the stairs leading up to the mansion, she gritted her teeth, beginning to sob in despair, and forced herself to stand.   
  
She nearly slipped to her death several times, but the determined young woman made it into the house, where the gravity room had been shut off, though Vejita and Goku were nowhere to be seen. Praying that they would come to the kitchen for lunch--soon--Bulma dropped to her knees again as the baby kicked again, sending pangs of pain worse than she had ever experienced before throughout her trembling body. Moaning in pain, she made a grab for the phone, but was unsuccessful in her attempt.  
  
"Holy shit, we've created a monster," she growled. "When I get my hands on Vejita, I'm gonna KILL him. KILL him!"  
  
"Kill who?" Goku asked as he bounced into the kitchen, Vejita hot on his heels. "Bulma? Where are you?"  
  
Bulma sighed in relief and fell back on her heels, still fighting off the pain. When they discovered her and were staring down at her, utterly helpless in their ignorance of all things that were associated with this sort of pain, she grabbed hold of Vejita's legs and made a rather pathetic effort to trip him up, much to his anger. "Who do you think?! I certainly didn't myself pregnant! I'll do it, too, I'm so full of raw hormonal energy right now I could do it with my bare HANDS, dammit! I want painkillers--RIGHT NOW!"  
  
Goku nodded, blanching, and scurried off to the bathroom. Vejita leaned down and helped her to her feet, propping her body up against his. "What happened now, woman? I thought that your damned sickness was over with for today."  
  
"Its definitely your child," Bulma said with a tiny smile. "The little asshole delivers a kick like a fucking monster."  
  
Putting a hand to her abdomen, he gauged its tiny ki with a victorious smile. "And its only getting better from there, woman, I'd get used to the pain if I were you."  
  
Goku returned with a bottle of pills, which Bulma practically attacked him for. "I'd like to give men a taste of the level of hell this is. After this, I'm swearing off sex for a LONG time."  
  
Vejita winced and desperately gave her a the rest of the pills in the bottle. "Come on, woman, don't give up so easily--six pills is pathetic for any child of MINE."  
  
Later that night, Bulma lay alone in the room she had come to think of as her own, rather than just Vejita's, curled up around a pillow. Her blue eyes stared blindly up at the ceiling, looking halfway into dreamland. Waking dreams were becoming a frequent part of her pregnancy, and they were one of the worst aspects of it, too. When she was not reliving the darkest moments of her life, she was living new ones that she fervently hoped would never come to pass. She found it difficult to give in to sleep at all, for she dreaded the dreams just as much as the kicking, which, as Vejita had predicted, were getting progressively worse, until she felt that her child was close to ripping its way out from the inside.  
  
Vejita found her this night talking in her sleep, or rather, singing in her sleep. This was not the first time he had found her in the state before, and it disturbed him just as greatly this time around. He was thankful that he could not make out most of the words, but the melody was haunting enough. He lay beside her and put an ear to her quivering lips, almost afraid of what he might hear.  
  
"Ah--I-I'm ok-ok--I'm okay..." she breathed, gripping him like a lifeline and burying her face beneath the covers like a child. "Go 'way...ju...just leave me!"  
  
She spent the entire night and the next morning muttering such nonsense, and Vejita spent all night and all morning putting up with it until he felt like beating his head upon a wall just to get her pathetic voice out of his head. It was not the last time she would rant, and it was not the last time Vejita would be there to witness it. There was to be far more rough water ahead.  
  
  
  
  
Bulma had her baby during the height of summer, on the hottest day of the year. She had run all of the way from her bedroom, where her water had broken, to the front yard, where Vejita, Goku, and Krillen were fooling around in the swimming pool. Her hair and clothing were plastered to her body as soon as she stepped outside, and it was one of the most uncomfortable experiences anyone could remember. They ended up calling for an ambulance instead of flying to the hospital, in spite of Vejita's angry insisting, considering how stressful the trip would be on Bulma, who could barely even breath because of her pain, let alone survive through a few minutes of Vejita's unnaturally speedy flying tendencies.  
  
Kami only knew how long she was in labor--the hours began to run together after a while. The doctors were surprised that she was able to hold off passing out until after the baby was born. The unfortunate young mother did not see her baby for the next day and half, since she had been going in and out of exhausted sleep. Vejita haunted the ICU, frightening nurses and doctors alike. They were too scared to even question the fact that the newborn boy had a tail.   
  
Vejita, of course, was relieved that his child had been a boy, for he would have had no idea how to deal with a girl-child. He had balked at first, seeing how the boy had his mother's coloring, but then recovered as he noticed how much the child resembled him. I suppose I don't have to say that Goku was also a frequent visitor, for he loved babies. Vejita spent endless hours with the other Saiyan, desperately restraining himself from gutting the happy-go-lucky man. Needless to say, the Saiyan Prince was immensely relieved when Bulma finally came into consciousness.  
  
She looked far more fragile and weak than she ever had before, and that startled Vejita quite a bit at first, until he sighted the healthy flush in her cheeks and the beautiful blue color her eyes had returned to. They danced at the sight of him, and she beckoned to him silently, her voice still hoarse from misuse. He bent down low to make out her soft words.  
  
"When...I return...to my original...healthy...state, I'm going...to...throttle...you for...this," promised the grinning girl. "I have...never...experienced...pain like this...before...and I don't mean...to...again."  
  
Vejita took a seat beside the bed and smirked. "I'm sorry to hear that. Protection always hinders the experience." He dodged a teddy bear as it was thrown his way.  
  
"I...want to see...my son," Bulma demanded. "RIGHT...NOW...DAMMIT!"  
  
As Bulma held her tiny son for the first time, her face melted into an expression reeking of that special, maternal kind of love, and she felt more than one tear escape over her lashes. Wiping them away brusquely, she mentally took note of every detail. She lifted her eyes to Vejita, who stifled a foolish grin. "He looks exactly like YOU. Sorry Vejita, but he's definitely yours. Yamcha will be bitterly disappointed, don't you think?"  
  
"Don't be stupid," Vejita snorted. "That wrinkled little brat looks nothing like me."  
  
"Oh?" Bulma raised a brow skeptically. "Well then, just who does the 'brat' resemble?"  
  
Vejita thought for a moment, then smirked. "He looks exactly like YOU in the morning."  
  
Bulma gave him a look that made him grateful that she had nothing sharp on hand.  
  
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(A/N): Oh...my...God...I'M DONE!! You have no idea how relieved I am! I know that the ending is a bit abrupt, but remember--there IS going to be a sequel. I'd like to thank all of the people who reviewed, especially Stef-Chan and my wonderful cousin Lady Ether, you both write reviews so long that its a wonder I haven't crowned myself Queen of FanFiction.net yet, and also the people who have helped me through my writer's blocks, like Lady Ether (once again), Mercedees, and my good friend Morgan~! I love you guys! Since this fic is DONE (YES!!!), I will now begin posting chapters for "Youth of the Nation", and maybe I'll start up my next fic, a desperate attempt at Greek Mythology (look on my site for more details), if I can get that up and running soon enough. So, with all of that said, please review, for the final time! 3, Rhapsody~*  
  
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